Damned If You Do, Damned if You Don't
by frustratedstudent
Summary: Definitely an AU. What if Valjean never met M. Myriel at Digne? Now complete.
1. Prologue: Paintings

_Hello mes amis! This is the ultimate evil Les Miserables fic, my second foray into AU. I don't own anyone save for random walk-on characters. Everyone else belongs to Victor Hugo. ___

_This entire fic was spawned on one 'innocent' question... __  
_

**Prologue: Paintings**

_Paris, 1831_

Gilles Feuilly always liked looking for different subjects for the paintings he made on his fans.

He made it a point to walk up and down Paris every now and then, searching for new faces to depict. Many of them were miserable, yet a little more dignified, like he was.

One afternoon, he found himself in the neighborhood of Les Halles. He set up his rickety chair and his painting tools on the sidewalk, determined to paint whatever he saw.

Sunset found him still there, working furtively on the last painting he intended to make. There were several fans lying open to dry at his feet; the rest had already been sold.

"Busy, I see?" a voice greeted. Feuilly smiled as he noticed Enjolras standing beside him.

"Work, of course. Are you meeting the rest at Corinth?" the fanmaker asked the student.

"Oui. Six o'clock," Enjolras said in a low voice. He looked at the fans scattered at his friend's feet. "Portraits?"

Feuilly held up one fan, depicting a quick sketch of a huge, surly looking man with a number on his arm. "He lives in that garret across the street." 

Enjolras looked at a second fan. "How about them?" he asked, pointing to a picture of two women; one very young, one looking too old for her years.

"Mother and daughter; serving maids at the Rue des Filles du Calvaire."

"The third fan; you painted Marius as he walked by?"

"After the serving maids."

"I see. Acquaintances of his." 

"Apparently more so. He told me once of the serving girls in his grandfather's house, how he grew up with the younger one."

"Who is the current cause of his disspation?" Enjolras asked critically.

Feuilly shrugged and held up a fourth fan, depicting a lean looking police inspector. "He was pacing about, and thankfully he's gone."

"A good thing," Enjolras said. He glanced at the fan that Feuilly had just finished painting; this one showed an elegantly dressed old man, a young boy, and a saucy looking girl. "I know them, of course." 

"The Thenardiers?" Feuilly asked. "They were here not long after Marius was."

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Something of trouble brewing. But tonight, we have graver matters to discuss."

Feuilly nodded as he blew on the paint to make it dry faster. "We'd better go then. Today was a day full of chance encounters, I should think."

Enjolras gave the fans one last look. He glanced upwards, to where a window open and shut hurriedly. "I don't think so, _mon ami_. There is no such thing as a chance encounter."


	2. Jean Valjean Oversteps

**Jean Valjean Oversteps**

Normally, he kept to himself and suffered every misery with gritted teeth and a tight grip on what little honor was left in his person.

Tonight, hunger won out. Jean Valjean left his apartment in Les Halles and headed out into the busy street. He was a rather forgettable sight even in his long coat and wide-brimmed hat.

As he walked on, he deliberately bumped a slender young man who was dressed in a green coat.

"My apologies sir..." the young man said nervously, getting out of Valjean's way.

Jean Valjean did not even look at him, but smiled to himself at the feel of the young man's purse that had just 'slipped' into his hands.

"That won't be enough though," he growled as he examined the purse. Only a few sous were in it. "I'm going to have to see Babet then. I hope he's still here in Les Halles."  
Marius was already at the street corner when he realized that something was awry. "There goes my dinner!" he muttered to himself as he searched his pockets and came up with nothing.

"Marius, you could come with us to eat," a soft voice said from beside him. Marius wheeled around to see a young servingmaid; a diamond in the rough with a pretty face and callused hands.

He smiled warmly at her. "_Merci_, Cosette, but I can't."

Cosette laughed wryly. "Your grandfather isn't home. I don't think Mamma and Basque would mind your joining us for dinner."

"Some other day, Cosette. I'm expected elsewhere," Marius said. He noticed another woman coming towards them. "There, your mother is waiting for you."

"_A bien tot_, Marius," Cosette said, hurrying off into the darkness.

Marius stared after her longingly. "If only..." he muttered to himself before going off towards Corinth. He'd never been there before, but he figured he could trust Grantaire's directions. As he walked on, he was vaguely aware of gendarmes rushing in the other direction.

Fantine, known elsewhere as 'Nicolette', sighed as she watched Cosette and Marius part company. "You both deserve much better than this," she said quietly. If Marius' clothes were shabby, how much more were Cosette's and hers?

"Come now, Cosette. We still have things to do," Fantine said to her daughter. Fantine was still rather pretty, although she was past thirty. Cosette had clearly taken after her; in other circumstances, men of all ages would have been staring at them.

But of course, who paid attention to servingmaids of the bourgeois? 

Cosette shrugged as she glanced over her shoulder at Marius' retreating form. "Poor man. Living in an awful flat, nothing more than a garret, really. It's all the politics again." 

Fantine nodded. "There are other things though," she said. She looked at her own hands, gnarled with work. "It's a good thing I raised you here in Paris. I thought of going back to my village, but what was there for us?"

"I'm glad we stayed too," Cosette said, a light blush crossing her face. She looked up as she saw the gendarmes walking by. "Looks like there's some trouble about tonight."

Fantine bit her lip as they hurried towards the Rue des Filles du Calvaire. "Remind me next time, Cosette, not to bring you there after dark. Les Halles is a revolutionary quarter."

"Mamma, you think Marius..." Cosette said before Fantine silenced her with a look. 

"There are people about, Cosette," Fantine said as they went off into the night.  
"Papa, why do we have to be here? Can't I stay home with Mamma and Azelma?" Eponine whined as she watched her father pace the street. "See, I'm getting dirt on my new dress!"

Nicholas Thenardier glared at his oldest daughter. "I have business to see here. A new partnership."

Eponine rolled her eyes. She had no idea what her father meant with all his partnerships, but in her mind, it was starting to become unhealthy. "Papa, it's not very late. I can take Gavroche and go home..." she said, trailing off as she noticed two figures walking by towards her father. One was known to her; Babet, a man she'd seen her parents talk to time and again. The other, in a yellow coat, frightened her a little.

"Is this the new man?" she heard her father ask Babet.

"Oui. He can help us a little. You cover the front, we do the backrooms." 

"This is getting more and more difficult to do each time."

Babet and the stranger exchanged looks. "We have to go before we run out of things to maquiller," the stranger said.

"Corinth is down this way." M. Thenardier said, pointing with a crooked finger towards the Rue de la Chanvrerie. He turned to his daughter. "Find Gavroche and go home."

"Oui, Papa," Eponine said. She stood alone for some time after her father and the two men disappeared into the night. She noticed, much to her alarm, gendarmes following not long after.

"Vroche!" she shouted to a young boy leaving a shop with a bag of sweets.

"What now, Ponine?" Gavroche asked.

Eponine bit her lip. "I think we're going to have to see to Papa. Fast," she said, grabbing his hand and running off towards the Rue de la Chanvrerie.


	3. A Mother's Recollections

**A Mother's Recollection**

_Rue des Filles du Calvaire_

It was an unspoken rule: Fantine would do the dishes, while Cosette waited on M. Gillenormand, Mlle. Gillenormand, and if he happened to be there, Theodule.

Tonight, as Fantine scrubbed the dishes, she couldn't help but sigh. "I didn't want to leave Paris, so I chose to work here. But would the alternative have been better for you, Cosette?" she wondered aloud. She could hear Mlle. Gillenormand chatting with her nephew in the next room. Fantine was so sure that Cosette would be dying to say something, but would only dutifully hold her tongue.

More than fourteen years ago, Fantine had wanted to leave Paris following Tholomyes' desertion. "But nothing was happening in Montreuil-sur-mer, and I couldn't bear to part with her..." she now reminded herself. If she'd taken Cosette along, she wouldn't have been able to find work. If she left her behind, who would take care of her?

So it was that Fantine took one last chance one winter day and applied to be a serving girl at M. Gillenormand's household. Much to her surprise, the old bourgeois agreed to take her on as a cook. Even more blessed to Fantine's ears than the word of this new employment was M. Gillenormand's answer to her pressing question: "You may keep the child."

Now, Fantine couldn't help but look out into the night and wonder if that had been the proper thing to do. "It would be better if I'd raised her to be a lady. Then she wouldn't have to hide about Marius..." she murmured.

Time and again, Gillenormand had asked her and Cosette if they'd seen Marius. Cosette never said a word, while Fantine had always lied for Cosette's sake. "If he found out that Marius was taken with her, we'd be thrown out for sure. He wouldn't want his grandson to be going about with a serving girl," Fantine said bitterly.

There were many pretty girls who wanted to catch Marius' attention. Fantine and Cosette were not oblivious to the glances that Eponine Thenardier and her friends often threw in Marius' direction when he walked by even in their company. Cosette had never complained, but her mother knew it had to hurt somehow.

She'd known Marius since he was a small boy, up to the day he'd stormed out of his grandfather's house. "He's like a son to me too, and more than a brother to my Cosette," Fantine whispered.

Fantine dried the dishes and went about putting them back into the cupboards. Suddenly, she heard the kitchen door open. Cosette stood there, wearing her shawl over her dress.

"Ah, where are you going, Cosette?" Fantine asked.

"Mamma, Marius is sending for me." Cosette said, blushing slightly. "One of his friends, young Gavroche Thenardier, is here waiting."

"At this hour?" Fantine exclaimed, obviously shocked.

Cosette stepped forward. "He's in trouble, Maman. Les Halles." 

Fantine cringed. "_Dieu_, what's next? Does he need anything?" She didn't want to know exactly what Marius had gotten into, but judging by Cosette's furtive behavior, and the rumors she'd been hearing, she knew it had to be serious.

Cosette nodded. "I'll bring my wages."

"No, you won't. Take mine. You'll need yours one day."

"But Maman!" 

"No, listen to me, Cosette. It will seem better that way." Fantine said with a smile. "He won't take them from you, or from his grandfather, but he can't refuse my help. He knows that."

Cosette nodded, not quite understanding even when Fantine gave her all the franc notes in her possession. "I'm not to tell him, am I?" she wondered aloud before leaving the house and going with Gavroche to the Prefecture.


	4. A Question of Bail

**A Question of Bail**

It had all happened too fast for Jean Valjean to even notice. One minute, he and Babet were about to make off with all of the money hidden in the kitchen at Corinth. The next though, gendarmes were all over the place.

_"Of all jobs to go wrong...of all times to get caught. I'll be lucky if they don't think I'm one of them."_ he thought as he was shoved into a cell. Judging by what he'd heard while robbing the kitchen, there had been some sort of seditious meeting going on in the front room. Now, most of the students and workingmen present there were now crammed into the same space that he and Babet were trying to get out of.

Babet signed to Valjean. "We can still have some pickings here. Too bad for the innkeeper who's going home with nothing," he said. 

Valjean shook his head. "They'd notice."

"Notice what?" a nervous young voice said from across the crowded cell. 

Valjean froze as he recognized the young man he'd robbed earlier that evening. "Absences," he said in an undertone. 

Marius nodded skeptically. "Courfeyrac, didn't you mention having classes tomorrow?" he asked the student next to him.

Courfeyrac only laughed. "The better to get away from Blondeau's class."

Combeferre caught his friends' gazes. "Who's here with us?"

"I think Enjolras is in the next cell with some of the rest," Courfeyrac said.   
"Feuilly and Grantaire left early. And when the trouble started, I shoved Jehan right out of the fray."

"I saw Joly and Bahorel get away. What of Bossuet?" Combeferre asked.

"I don't know." Marius replied. "I didn't see him get dragged off."

It was then that Combeferre noticed Babet. "I didn't see you in the wineshop," he observed mildly.

"You know these gendarmes. They'll grab anyone," Babet said casually. "Well, you boys waiting for someone to bail you out?"

Marius sighed. "I don't know if anyone can."

"If we get out first, we'll come back for you within the evening," Courfeyrac said. 

Jean Valjean observed the young men warily, wondering if they had any suspicions about him and Babet. "So you're Republicans. Best of luck to your cause," he said bitterly.

"It's for the betterment of everyone that we fight for," Combeferre said.

"Betterment?" Valjean repeated skeptically. 

"Marius! There you are..." a young girl called from outside the cell. All eyes turned towards Cosette.

"Cosette! What are you doing here?" Marius asked, amazed.

"Getting you out," Cosette said breathlessly.

"How?" Marius asked.

Cosette smiled. "With all I have." 

"Cosette, there's got to be some other way..." Marius protested.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre exchanged knowing looks. "So that's her name?" Courfeyrac laughed. "You sly boy, hiding everything."

Marius blushed. "We grew up together."

"As did we. Bonjour Messeurs," another voice said. Another young girl about Cosette's age made her appearance in the hallway. "Have you seen my brother?" this newcomer asked Cosette pointedly.

Cosette smiled calmly. "Bonjour Mademoiselle Thenardier. Your brother brought me here, but he's gone off somewhere."

Eponine rolled her eyes. "Off home, I hope." She pretended not to notice Valjean and Babet. "I suspect you all need help?" she asked the students.

"A little. Mademoiselle, maybe you could find some of our other friends." Courfeyrac said furtively.

"Too proud to tell others, I see?" Eponine said scornfully. "Well, if you're nice to me, Monsieur de Courfeyrac, I might help you. And Monsieur Combeferre too. I suspect too that Monsieur Enjolras will need help as well?"

Marius nodded. "If they're letting us get out on bail..."

"We're only being arrested for disturbing the peace. Ah well, it's much better than the alternative," Courfeyrac said lightly. "Merci, mademoiselles."

"Wait here," Cosette said, going off to speak to the warden. Halfway, she stopped and looked at Eponine. "Are you coming too?"

Eponine nodded, but if Cosette had been more observant, she would have realized that this gesture was more to Babet and Valjean than to her. "Right away," she said, flouncing off with her skirts rustling.

The men all exchanged relieved looks. "Perhaps we can bail them out as well," Combeferre said to Courfeyrac.

"And the others too." Marius said. "But I have a bad feeling about the other two with us," he added in an undertone.

Babet elbowed Valjean. "Mark their names. And it's a good thing that Monsieur Thenardier is one of them bourgeois. Lends some good paint to the affair, non?"

"Is Mademoiselle Thenardier allowed to do as she pleases with her money?" Valjean asked. 

Babet shrugged. "The _fee_ just keeps things smooth between her _daron_ and the rest. Nothing like a pretty poulet to make these hotbloods forget."

Valjean nodded and looked around the cell nervously. While he had some scruples about using a young girl as a decoy, he couldn't help but admire the group's cleverness. "After tonight, the pickings will be rich." 

Babet nodded gleefully. "Indeed."


	5. Debts

**Debts**

"Non, Marius, I can go home by myself."

"Cosette, what kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn't see you home safely, especially since you got me out of prison?"

If the light had been better, Marius would have laughed to see Cosette blush. As it was, outside the Prefecture, it was already dark and dismal, but neither Cosette or Marius cared very much.

"Mademoiselle Thenardier said that her mother was expecting you all to join her family for dinner," Cosette said primly. "Aren't you going with your friends?"

Marius shook his head. "I'd rather not. My grandfather might ask about me. I know I owe a good deal to the Thenardiers, but there are other things I have to see to."

Cosette nodded in understanding. "So will you join us?"

Marius paused, as if contemplating her. "Are you sure your mother wouldn't mind?"

"She'd be happy to see you."

"So soon?"

"Marius!" Cosette laughed reprovingly. "You worry me again, I shall make sure you aren't out of my sight for a minute."

"I wouldn't object to that," Marius said to himself as he walked with her down the street towards the Rue des Filles du Calvaire.   
Before any more questions could be asked, Valjean and Babet got as far away as they could from the Prefecture.

"_Dieu_ that was a close escape," Babet grinned. "Now, let's stay a good distance, and play at being no one like Claquesous does. Till we get to the Thenardiers' house, no one can see us."

Valjean followed Babet closely. "Why are we going there?"

"To make sure all's right, and to speak with the rest."

"And the next ambuscade?"

"Leave that to Montparnasse and Brujon. These Republicans know us already; they paid our bail after all. Though we can possibly rob the rest of their company." 

"There was one in the next cell. He didn't see us." 

Babet nodded. "He's a wealthy young man. From Nice, if I heard rightly. It should not be so hard to try to get a good many louis d'ors from him, provided he's alone."

"That last condition might have to be arranged," Valjean pointed out. 

"Which is why Mademoiselle Thenardier is always going about," Babet said. "Though you are right; if we are to rob that fellow we are speaking of, we might have to provide another distraction."

Valjean decided not to comment on this as he walked on. "Have you a family, Babet?"

"Once. And you?"

"Once too."

Babet whistled. "Lost them when you went into the galleys?"

Valjean's eyes grew cold. "They were taken from me, if that's the case," he said. He did not speak any more to his companion till they came at last into the sight of the Thenardiers' house on the Rue Saint-Honore.  
Enjolras made sure to hide any sign of discomfort as he steeled himself to follow Eponine out of the Prefecture. The two unnamed men, along with Marius and Cosette had disappeared almost right away, leaving Combeferre and Courfeyrac to accept the dinner invitation of the Thenardiers.

"How did you know that we were in trouble?" Combeferre asked Eponine. 

Eponine stopped and looked at them. "My father. He was in the neighborhood on business."

Something about Eponine's inflection caught Enjolras' attention. "I did see him in the wineshop," he pointed out.

"Oh, he was there? He attended?" Eponine asked. "He's a Bonapartist. You are a Republican. It does not make sense."

"We do not simply turn away people from our meetings." Enjolras said.

Eponine smiled at him. "I don't understand why you talk politics when you should be doing other things." 

Combeferre cleared his throat. "Enjolras, you can't expect to explain everything to her," he said in an undertone. 

"She shouldn't know anyway," Enjolras said quickly. 

"Aren't we lucky that Grantaire isn't here? Otherwise there'd be a row for sure," Courfeyrac laughed wryly.

"Well, don't talk politics at the dinner table. It upsets Maman," Eponine said to the men. "It's too bad that Monsieur Pontmercy isn't here; he chose to go off with that serving girl." 

"What's her name again?" Courfeyrac asked. 

"Cosette. She works for Marius' grandfather." 

"Who he does not get along with because of...oh, there's a story," Combeferre said. "Perhaps Jehan should write it down."

Courfeyrac glanced at Eponine. "Is your sister going to be home?"

"Oh no, Monsieur de Courfeyrac, she hasn't forgiven you yet," Eponine laughed. "Now that I think of it...I doubt Maman knows what happened..." 

"Mademoiselle, please spare us the details," Enjolras said uncomfortably as Combeferre waved for a fiacre. "Actually, I have things to do..."

"Monsieur, my father will want to see you!"

"Je suis desole, but I have important matters to attend to," Enjolras said firmly. Courferyac opened his mouth to protest before Combeferre silenced him with a look.

"Have a good evening, Enjolras," Combeferre said. "And stay out of trouble!" 

Enjolras nodded and tipped his hat before going off down the street. There were other reasons besides politics as to why he chose to distance himself from the Thenardiers and their kind.


	6. Pale Dawn

**Pale Dawn**

_"As long as the blanket is short, learn to make the most of it."_

Marius could not help but remember this adage as he fought to keep warm in the early morning hours. He tried to stretch his blanket to cover his feet as he looked up at the ceiling in the Gorbeau tenement. It was still dark outside; it was just before dawn.

"I'd ask for a loan, but I've already put myself too much in debt already," he told himself. Before yesterday, he'd already owed a few trifling sums to Courfyerac, Jehan, and Grantaire. Now, on top of it all, he had to find a way to pay back Cosette and Fantine.

"If I don't find a way, my grandfather will figure out where their wages went," he muttered. He went to where he usually kept his wallet in a drawer, only to realize he'd lost it yesterday.

"That old scoundrel in the cell...I should have tried to get back my wallet from him!" he exclaimed indignantly.

A knock sounded from the opposite wall. "Quiet down there!" a voice reprimanded. "It's too early to be up."

Marius crossed his arms. "I will not disturb you anymore, Montparnasse," he said, getting his coat and heading out the door.

_"What does that fellow do anyway for a living?"_ Marius wondered. He rarely spoke with his neighbor; from his few conversations, he gathered that Montparnasse was just a little younger than he was, and that he worked a sort of job at night. He once heard Eponine mention that Montparnasse knew her parents. 

"Perhaps I'll ask her about it," Marius said as he headed out to buy some bread. Much to his surprise, he saw a familiar face in the crowd outside the bakery.

"_Bonjour_ Marius," Enjolras greeted.

Marius eyed his friend curiously. "What brings you here?"

"I'm waiting for someone," Enjolras said. "I heard you live not far from here?"

"At the boulevard, at that rundown tenement there."

"There are better lodgings in the Latin Quartier."

Marius stiffened. "I'm still making my way up."

"I meant no offense," Enjolras said. "I heard you were bailed out by a friend yesterday?"

Marius nodded. "My grandfather's servants. So it was Mademoiselle Thenardier who got the rest of you out?"

Enjolras bit his lip. "Oui, but I did not join her and her family for dinner after. Courfeyrac and Combeferre went though."

Marius shrugged as he fell in line for some bread. "_Only Enjolras would be so unfazed as to go to another political meeting straight after a few hours in the jail."_   
"Wake up."

"What now, Brujon?"

"Valjean, this is urgent business." 

Jean Valjean sat up and glared at Brujon. "What do you want from me?"

Brujon glanced upwards briefly. "Quiet now. The innkeeper and his family are still asleep. Business at the university."

"Oh. What then?" Valjean asked, now curious.

Brujon unwrapped a package of books. "You and Montparnasse will be going to the Sorbonne for some pickings." 

"Students again? Some of them were here last night." 

"Rich wealthy sons of families from the country. Bourgeois. Should be so easy."

Valjean nodded. "Shouldn't be so hard to find some loafer." _"Or a reactionary Republican with his mind on nothing else."_

"Are you going? I could ask Guelemer." Brujon said. 

Valjean stood up. "Babet still asleep?"

"Oui." 

"Give me a minute. I'll see you and Montparnasse outside."


	7. Sisters Know Best

**Sisters Know Best**

"You think we should go out after them?"

"I don't know, Azelma. I'm in no mood to talk to them, today at least." 

"That's because you're just waiting to find some way to talk to that Monsieur Pontmercy..."

"Am not!" 

Azelma smiled smugly at her sister as they were readying for the day. The two Thenardier girls shared a room on the second storey. It was a nicely furnished place, with lace curtains and soft cushions on the chairs. Their mother had insisted on it.

"Look, I'll deal with Messeurs Enjolras and Combeferre. You just keep Monsieur de Courfeyrac away from me, and hope that the rest aren't watching." Azelma said as she put on a scarf. "Leave it to Papa to deal with business, and the other gentlemen to their work. We all have to eat, _non?_" Azelma pointed out.

"Zelma, if Brujon and the rest tell us to try to keep Monsieur Pontmercy distracted...I won't do it. He doesn't have anything to be lost. If he did, Parnasse would have robbed him ages ago."

"True." 

Eponine adjusted the hat on her head. "There, how do I look?"

"Well enough, Ponine," Azelma said. "Papa talks sometimes of you getting married one day..." 

"To who?"

"I don't know." 

Eponine shook her head. "I'm only sixteen. Surely he can give me a year to be more of a lady than I am now."

"But it does make things easier for us, or him, I mean. And Maman wants to see you with a fine young man" Azelma said. "Though I don't like it."

"I know you don't, petit," Eponine said affectionately. "But you'll get a young man too one day." 

"Just not Monsieur de Courfeyrac."

"Ah." 

Azelma ran to the window. "They've gone out!" 

"Dieu, we're going to be late," Eponine said. "I hate going near the University. We look so odd there."

"You know, not all the men go inside. A lot just loaf about," Azelma said.

Eponine opened the bedroom door. "Oui, and if we can get them to say, bring us out for lunch, that would be nice." 

"It's lovely not having to work. Not like that girl that Monsieur Pontmercy knows, that Cosette," Azelma said with disgust.

Eponine's eyes grew dark. "I know. I don't understand it at all..."

Azelma swallowed. "You don't mean to..."

"It's amazing what you can find out," Eponine said, an odd grin spreading across her face. "A question here, another there, and you have quite a tale. There's got to be something I can tell Monsieur Pontmercy..." she said, heading out the door.


	8. An Innkeeper's Fortunes

**An Innkeeper's Fortunes**

Long after Marius had disappeared, Enjolras was still waiting at the bakery. The law student searched the crowd discreetly, hoping to catch a glimpse of some familiar face. 

Someone waved to him. "Enjolras! Over here!" 

Enjolras nodded. "_Bonjour_, Jehan."

Jean Prouvaire smiled at his friend. "He's not coming."

"Oh, and why?"

"Taken ill."

Enjolras frowned. "Some other day then. Did you bring..."

Jehan reached into his waistcoat and brought out a small folded paper. "The latest. Have you seen Combeferre?"

"Non. Not since last night. He went to dinner elsewhere."

"At the Thenardiers?"

"How did you know?"

Jehan smiled knowingly. "I saw them passing: him, Courferyac, and Mademoiselle Thenardier, the older one that is. Is Courfeyrac still alive?"

"I do not care to know what passed between him and the younger of those sisters." Enjolras remarked.

"It is a rather sordid tale," Jehan agreed. "Not fit for poems. More for er...retelling in a less public location."

"I don't trust that family." Enjolras said stiffly.

"Because of ther political beliefs?" Jehan asked.

"No. Marius is a Bonapartist too, like them."

"I heard M. Thenardier made his fortune in banking and government procurement."

"Ah, he's not very likely to throw his lot in with ours."

"But I think his children might." Jehan teased. "That is, if Courfeyrac makes his peace with Mademoiselle Azelma Thenardier."

"For our sakes, I hope he never does." Enjolras said as they began walking towards the Sorbonne.  
"Wait, not so fast there, Montparnasse."

"We'll lose sight of them." 

"Come now, booksellers do not walk this quickly." 

Montparnasse impatiently fiddled with his knife. "Hurry up then, old man. If we are too close to the Sorbonne, we shall be in trouble."

Jean Valjean began to walk faster, all the time minding the books he carried. "We have to be closer to the university. You're supposed to be a student, if the cognes ask." 

Montparnasse sighed. "I'll have a difficult time playing at that."

"You had better do your best at it." Valjean said.

Montparnasse nodded as he flicked dust off his coat. "Look smart. That's how the innkeeper did it, I hear." 

"Got to his riches?" Valjean asked.

"Oui. Years back, he was running an inn, that we all know. Then some wealthy man stopped by, and he got that man's name and all. Followed the man to Paris, discovered he was some sort of acquaintance with this Colonel Pont--"

"Pontmercy?"

"That's the name. How did you know?" Montparnasse said with surprise. 

"A name dropped in Les Halles," Valjean said. "What happened then?"

Montparnasse leaned in close. "From there, he moved up. Found out the names of the important men in every business, and made friends with them. And just to keep his home safe, he talked to _us_, and agreed to give us a little something here and there."

Valjean nodded. "A wise move, and a rare talent."

"He's a crafty one. Now if only his fees had that much sense. The mome, Gavroche, might turn out to be something." Montparnasse said.

Valjean looked up. "Here they are. I recognize one of them from yesterday," he said, motioning to two students walking by.

Montparnasse hid his knife. "I don't see the fees anywhere."

"We can go without them." Valjean said. His eyes were keen as he looked through the crowd. "And we have to make it quick." 

"Why?" Montparnasse asked.

"_He's_ here," Valjean said cryptically.

Montparnasse glanced towards a figure wearing a greatcoat, who had now just arrived at the corner of the street. "Damn!"


	9. The Wolf

**The Wolf**

Long before Montparnasse and Valjean had noticed him, Javert had already been observing the entire scene. The Inspector had taken stock of everyone: of the two giggling girls at the fence, of the young men who were entering the university buildings, and of the motely groups of vendors and streetsweepers miling about.

Thierry Javert casually pocketed his snuffbox and walked a little closer to the steps of the nearest building. While his eye seemed to be trained on Montparnasse and Valjean, in reality, he was watching the students who were beginning to gather at the steps. He could see the ones in the midle of it all: the intimidating law student with golden hair, a student of medicine who was carrying huge textbooks, and a delicately built young man with a badly-cut coat. Perhaps if Javert had a better view, he might have even been able to get a glimpse of the carefully folded papers that Enjolras and some of his friends were handing out. 

_"Some other day, in a more opportune moment, I'll find some way to trap them."_ Javert thought. He caught sight of the two ladies at the fence, talking to each other in high-pitched voices punctuated by giggles and gestures towards the young men. 

"Grisettes dressed like bourgeoisie," he muttered as he strode towards them. He'd long suspected that some of the bourgeois families in Paris sympathized with, or even actively assisted the secret organizations that seemed to be growing in numbers by the week.

One of the girls curtseyed to him. "Bonjour, M'sieur Inspecteur," she said respectfully. "How can we help you?" she added as she brushed back a stray strand of auburn hair.

Javert raised an eyebrow. "Do you know them, Mademoiselle?"

Eponine glanced at her sister. "Non, just by sight, Monsieur."

Azelma tugged on Eponine's elbow. "We're going to be late if we don't go." 

"You should leave, Mademoiselles. You wouldn't want to distract these young gentlemen, wouldn't you?" Javert said sternly.

"Non, M'sieur Inspector," Eponine said, hurrying off after Azelma.

Javert looked across the street to where the vendors were still gathering. He noted the absence of a certain hat from the general crush of people. "I almost had them," he scowled as he looked around. After one last look at the university, he set off in the direction of Rue des Filles du Calvaire.


	10. Egalite In Motion

**Egalite In Motion**

Javert did not care too much for the neighborhood of the Rue des Filles du Calvaire, but somehow he felt rather drawn towards it. "There is something there that has to do with those two I saw outside the university," he said to himself. He felt the weight of his snuffbox in his pocket; there'd be a time for it later, he hoped. It was already afternoon; he'd spent the whole day on the street, carefully watching and even surreptitiously questioning people.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a brougham driving past. "There goes Monsieur Thenardier," Javert remarked. He could still remember with perfect clarity the half-finished notes he had stowed in a drawer in his own flat.

_"M. Thenardier in strange circles. Noticed him in company of Patron-Minette, but no proof quite found for this."_

Javert watched the brougham drive towards Number Six. "Playing both sides, I see," he said, furrowing his brow. For weeks now, he'd been trying to figure out Thenardier's schemes; it seemed as if Patron-Minette was always on the businessman's trail. Then there was the fact that the Thenardier girls seemed to be associated with a group of rebellious and wealthy students.

"If he's not careful, I'm going to collar him too one of these days," Javert resolved. Never mind the scandal it would cause; it was better than having mayhem all over Paris.  
"Pauline, stop looking out the window. You'll attract attention."

"I don't see our girls anywhere, Nicolas!"

M. Thenardier rolled his eyes. "Come now, they're good young ladies. They'll do their business right," he said to his wife.

Mme. Thenardier crossed her arms over her lavishly embroidered dress front. "What will be said about them? That we're letting them run around with those young men?" she snapped.

"There, there, you know that Eponine is practically promised to Monsieur Pontmercy," M. Thenardier said. "And Azelma, she has her pick of the suitors."

Mme. Thenardier shook her head. "I'd rather that my Eponine be married to Monsieur Enjolras. He's from a wealthier family. Too bad that she detests him." 

"Well, that can easily be arranged," M. Thenardier grinned.

Mme. Thenardier's eyes grew cold. "You're selling off our girls to the highest bidder!"

"We can't provide for them forever!" M. Thenardier reasoned. "Ah, here we are at the Luxembourg. They'll be here?"

"Hopefully with that Valjean and that Montparnasse," Mme. Thenardier said as she stepped out of the brougham, making sure not to bump her head on the roof of the carriage.

The Luxembourg was not so crowded at this time of the day; people had a clear view of each other. M. Thenardier could not kill the smile of glee on his face as he caught sight of a slender young man at one end of the promenade. 

"Monsieur Pontmercy!" he meant to greet before another face entered on this scene.

"Marius! You're early today," Cosette greeted as she walked towards him. The young serving girl had put on her cleanest dress; her hair was still a little wet from washing, but she'd done it up well under her simple hat.

"The better to spend some more time with you," Marius said with a bow. "Cosette, how much I wanted to see you the whole day."

"You should have stayed longer with us," Cosette said. "I could have helped you sneak out the servants' entrance when your grandfather came home."

"I already had a narrow escape, Cosette," Marius said abashedly. "I did not wish to get you into more trouble..."

In the meantime, the Thenardiers exchanged disgusted looks. "That fool, going about with a serving girl!" Mme. Thenardier fumed. "Why, I know her, the maid at his grandfather's house!"

"The one with the pretty---" M. Thenardier had meant to say before his wife silenced him with a look.

Now two more young people had ventured on the promenade. "Now this is the place for _egalite_, the Luxembourg. This place is free for all," Courfeyrac said to the girl with him.

Azelma pursed her lips. "I could think of better places to go if you wanted to make amends, Monsieur," she said.

"Cherie, this is the best walk in all of Paris," Courfeyrac said. "It is far too early yet for supper."

Azelma tossed back her dark hair. "How now, I see your friend?"

"Indeed," Courfeyrac said. "Bonjour, Marius!"

At the other end of the promenade, Marius froze while Cosette hid her face, hiding the pink flush starting to creep up to the tips of her ears. 

"There, that's an interrupted rendezvous!" M. Thenardier laughed.

"Doubly so," Mme. Thenardier added, noticing Fantine at the gate to the Luxembourg.

Fantine trusted Marius enough not to bring Cosette to any disaster, therefore she had no fear of leaving Cosette alone at the Luxembourg while she went to run an errand.

However, the poor woman had quite forgotten about herself in her worry about her daughter. Now, as she approached the park, she forced herself to carry an expression of happiness.

"_If Cosette learns that I've lost my purse, she'll worry. And that child deserves so much better..."_ she reminded herself.

In her haste, she nearly walked right into a man standing at the gate to the promenade, half-concealed by the shadows. "Oh! I'm so sorry, Monsieur!" Fantine said, backing off.

"Are you alright, Madame?" the man asked.

Fantine nodded, feeling fear rise up in her at the sight of this elderly yet muscular stranger. "I was just on my way in, Monsieur."

The man stared at her, then glanced towards Cosette and Marius. "Your daughter?"

"Oui..." Fantine said quietly. 

The stranger smiled; envy and sadness mingled in his worn face. "Keep her safe. There are people about," he said gruffly, stepping aside to let Fantine pass.

Fantine whispered a prayer of thanks as she ran in. "Cosette!" she greeted her daughter. She also curtsied to Marius. "And bonjour, Monsieur Marius. Thank you for taking care of my daughter." 

Courfeyrac, who by this time had walked up to them with Azelma in tow, could not hide the grin on his face. "She's Mademoiselle Cosette's mother?" he said, glancing from Fantine to Cosette, and lastly to Marius.

Marius nodded. "She is like a mother to me. I'll see you soon," he said.

Courfeyrac winked at Marius. "Go on. You have the keys to your own flat anyway,"

Marius turned red, aware of Azelma's withering glares in his direction. "I have something to do," he said quickly. "Madame Fantine, Mademoiselle Cosette, let me walk you out of here," he said quickly moving to escort Fantine and Cosette away from the Luxembourg.

Azelma put her hands on her hips as she watched them go. "Imagine when Eponine hears about this!"

Courfeyrac smiled cryptically. "Well, no one can curtail the freedom of meeting..."

Azelma rolled her eyes. "I see Maman and Papa. We can meet them in a while," she said, glancing to where her parents stood talking to Jean Valjean. The ex-convict handed a purse to M. Thenardier before slipping back into the relative safety of the street outside the Luxembourg.

Courfeyrac looked around. "Were you supposed to meet your sister here?"

Azelma nodded. "Seems as if Monsieur Prouvaire and his friends enjoy her company?" 

Courfeyrac wisely chose to bite his tongue as Azelma took his hand and led him towards her parents.


	11. Right Place, Wrong Time

**Right Place, Wrong Time**

_"Trust us to end up switching places. I hope Azelma and Monsieur Courfeyrac don't end the day having a row."_

Eponine pushed the remains of her meal around her plate as she listened to Jean Prouvaire's passionate defense of _Hernani_. Across the table, Bahorel restlessly waited for an opportunity to put in another point, while Joly and some of his friends from the medical school were silent under Prouvaire's enthusiastic tirade. 

"Mademoiselle, what do you think of it?" Joly asked Eponine in an undertone.

Eponine felt her cheeks grow hot; she wasn't sure if it was the wine, or embarrassment. "My pere doesn't let me go to the theater."

Suddenly, Jean Prouvaire looked up. "Salut, Enjolras," he greeted a young man who'd just entered the cafe.

"Salut, Jehan" Enjolras said cordially, going to a vacant table. "And you too, Bahorel, Joly, Mademoiselle Thenardier."

Eponine looked down at her plate, feigning distraction. She could see out of the corner of her eye yet another figure entering the cafe. "Are you well, monsieur?" she dared to say at last as she met his gaze. 

Enjolras did not answer as he began writing furiously into a notebook. Eponine nodded to a dandy seated nearby before turning back to hear the rest of the debate.

"I don't care what the critics say. It was a play worth defending," Bahorel insisted as he pounded his fist on the table.

"Easy there! You're causing a stir," Joly said calmly. "And there's a lady present."

Eponine folded her hands primly and got up. "Actually, messeurs, I should be going already."

"Allow me, mademoiselle," Prouvaire said, stepping away from the table to escort Eponine to the door.

"Merci Monsieur Prouvaire" Eponine said, graciously curtsying before hurriedly crossing the street. She waited under a lamp post for a few moments before waving to the dandy who was just exiting the cafe.

"I've got it, Eponine," Montparnasse said as he went to her. In his hands was a purse.

"Pooh, that's the last time I'm doing this for you. They'll catch on, especially him," Eponine said, sticking out her tongue.

Montparnasse scowled at her as he opened up the stolen purse. He came up with three louis d'ors. "Nothing much...wait, there's something in the lining," he muttered. His fingers deftly extricated some carefully folded sheets of paper from the purse.

"It's a map of Paris...but my, is his handwriting atrocious." Eponine laughed as she examined the papers.

"And those letters there..." Montparnasse said, pointing to a scrawl in the margin. His eyes were now dark. "This is dangerous. I bet the gendarmes are watching him too."

"I had to help him get out of jail last night," Eponine said. "Oh well, he's a Republican. He'll start caring about it only when he's got nothing to help him out when that Republic of his doesn't happen."

"No use turning him in to the police then," Montparnasse said. He gave one louis d'or to Eponine, and pocketed the rest. "About the map...should I return it to him?"

Eponine shrugged. "I suppose so. Just leave it under his door, Parnasse."

"Do you know his address?"

"17 Rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau."

"Very well then," Montparnasse said before walking down the street. Eponine made sure he was out of sight before setting off in the direction of the Luxembourg.


	12. When Angels are Knocked Down

**When Angels are Knocked Down**

Morning found Jean Valjean back in his small room in Les Halles.

As the elderly man pulled on a clean shirt and searched for his shoes, he couldn't help but wonder what had happened after he'd left.

"Montparnasse was supposed to meet Babet again. But where has he gotten to now?" he muttered. He had an idea that the dandy might have had some dalliance with a lady someplace, and lost track of time in the process. 

"Well, he can only stay hungry so long, and the same goes for us." Valjean reminded himself. It was a rule in Patron-Minette that anybody who had some part in a 'picking' had to have a share. It had been Valjean who sent Montparnasse and Eponine to follow Jean Prouvaire and his comrades.

As for Valjean himself, he knew that he could not have done better than he did yesterday. "It's surprising what one makes in the area of the university," he said to himself. He only hoped though that the inebriated man he'd taken a wallet from wasn't of the same temperament as some of their other intended victims.

Jean Valjean put on his coat and headed out into the street. "I have to work alone today. It's easier with them around, but I need new shoes," he said as he walked in the direction of the cathedral of Notre Dame.

The tall, stately Gothic structure would have been enough to make other would-be-thieves stop in awe. Valjean gave the church a cursory glance before stepping in. He didn't even bother crossing himself. As he passed under a stained glass window, he cast a look upwards, marveling at the craftsmanship.

"Not every man can make that," he marveled. If Valjean had believed a bit in God, he might have given thanks, but as it was, he simply walked through the cathedral. He caught sight of a dowager wearing a beaded dress, concentrating on the rosary beads in her hands instead of on the bag beside her. In one swift motion, Valjean picked it up and stuffed it in his coat.

He tried not to flee the church too quickly. Despite his rather shabby attire, Valjean's size was enough to make him seem imposing. He stood up straight and strode right out before heading towards a side alley.

To his amazement, he found ten louis d'ors in the bag. "More than enough," Valjean said with a satisfied grin. He continued walking until he heard a shriek from behind him.

Valjean turned and recognized the form of another one of his fellow thieves standing a few paces away. "Bonjour Guelemer!" Valjean said in an undertone.

The bigger man looked up abruptly. At the sight of Valjean, the colossus fled, dropping the purse he'd just stolen.

It was only then that Valjean realized that there had been someone else at Guelemer's feet. As if drawn by morbid curiosity, Valjean walked over and bent down to take a look at the young girl lying unconscious on the pavement.

He recognized the young servant girl, the daughter of the golden-haired maid he'd seen the previous day. A bruise was forming around one of her eyes. 

"What happened?" another voice said. Valjean looked up into the face of Combeferre. The medical student's face was lined with fear and worry.

"Someone attacked her," Valjean said, getting up.

Combeferre seized Valjean's coat. "Please, monsieur, help me get her to safety," he begged. 

"Do you know her?" Valjean asked critically. 

Combeferre shook his head. "By face. She knows a friend of mine, but I know a house nearby."

Valjean muttered something as he put Cosette's purse back into her dress pocket. "I'll carry her, but you lead the way."

_"So much for disappearing..."_ Valjean thought as he scooped up Cosette's limp form and followed Combeferre down the street.


	13. DoubleCrossing

**Double-Crossing**

Even before Combeferre mentioned the actual address, Valjean already recognized the house they were headed to.

_"What luck. I hope they don't find out I've been on the job."_ he mused just before the door of the house opened to reveal a young girl wearing a simple yet elegantly sewn dress of blue.

"Monsieur Combeferre! What a surprise---mon Dieu, what happened?" Eponine said, rather aghast.

"We found this girl. She's hurt, she needs help. Do you mind..." Combeferre said sheepishly. 

"Non. Not at all," Eponine said, stepping aside to let Combeferre and Valjean into the living room. Valjean laid Cosette down on the nearest couch while Combeferre went to look for some water.

Eponine examined Cosette's face, and cursorily went through her pockets as well. "The silly went out without a purse," she remarked. "Now what if Monsieur Marius Pontmercy were to hear of---"

At the mention of Marius' name, suddenly Cosette stirred and her eyes fluttered open. "Where am I?" the girl asked.

"My house, obviously," Eponine said, sticking her tongue out at her.

Cosette winced as she felt for the bruise around her eye. "Someone knocked me down," she said. She tried to get up, but ended up sinking back down onto the couch. "Dieu, I have so many things to do." 

"Mademoiselle...Cosette, am I right?" Combeferre said, coming back into the room with a basin of water and a sponge. 

Cosette nodded. "You're Monsieur Combeferre...one of Monsieur Marius' friends?"

"Oui, mademoiselle," Combeferre said, putting the wet sponge on Cosette's black eye. "Don't try to get up yet."

"Too late," Cosette said. "I can't stay here so long."

Eponine smiled gleefully. "I can give a message for you. Who should I look for? Your mother?" she said.

Cosette sighed. "You know where I live anyway, Mademoiselle Thenardier. Please, could you tell her where I am, and that I'll be back by..."

"Noon, at the earliest," Combeferre said. He frowned as he examined Cosette's bruise. "I have to go and fetch a doctor. I'm going to need permission before giving you medicines."

"Can't you do it yourself?" Eponine asked. "Oh, I forget you're still a medical student."

Combeferre winced. "If you're going out, Mademoiselle, I'll join you for a bit of the way," he said, offering his arm to Eponine.

"A bien tot," Eponine said coolly to Cosette before sauntering out the door. 

Cosette feebly rummaged for her purse. "I thought I'd lost it!" she laughed as she came up with the purse again. "I could have sworn..."

Valjean merely smiled before going out of the living room to look for M. Thenardier.


	14. The Righteous Hurry Past

**The Righteous Hurry Past, The Virtuous Do Not**

"Azelma, please take care of her. I'm sure that M. Gillenormand will be put out if we do not," Mme. Thenardier said to her youngest daughter as she bustled about the parlor. Not long after Eponine slipped out, the rest of the Thenardier household had come to see what Valjean had been up to. Combeferre had left a few moments earlier, after giving instructions and a little medicine to Cosette.

Valjean bowed to Mme. Thenardier. "I shall take my leave now," he said gruffly. He turned to Cosette, who was lying propped up on the couch. "Will you be fine, mademoiselle?"

Cosette nodded with an angelic smile on her face. "I'm well taken care of, Monsieur. I cannot thank you all enough,"

Azelma looked at the clock. "Now where has my silly sister gotten off too?" she muttered. She tapped Valjean's arm. "If it's not too much to ask, can you look for her?"

Valjean nodded stiffly before leaving the Thenardiers' house. He felt a little wary about leaving Cosette alone, but he figured that she would not come to much harm even in there.

He hadn't even gone a few blocks when he heard two voices talking sharply at a street corner. One, he recognized as Eponine's. The other, much to his surprise, was Enjolras.

"I don't care about it, really. I had it sent back to you, since it's none of my business," Eponine said, tossing back her red hair. "So don't you ask me about it, Monsieur."

"Well, that is easy for you to say," Enjolras said, fury coloring his usually calm voice. "Now, that piece of paper can fall in the wrong hands."

Eponine stamped her foot. "Go back to your flat then! I don't care. Did you come all the way here to accost me?"

Enjolras' eyes narrowed. "Non. Still, I cannot leave any stone unturned. I'm sorry to have taken so much of your time," he said coldly before walking past her.

Eponine wiped a handkerchief over her face, which had reddened slightly. "Well, we'll see what he'll do!" she muttered petulantly as she hurried past Valjean, not even noticing him.

Valjean thought of stopping her to ask if she'd informed Cosette's mother of her whereabouts, but decided against it. Instead, the former convict walked on resolutely, eyes surreptiously searching purses and faces.

In his intense concentration, he almost did not see Fantine running up the street. The poor woman's eyes were wild and her dress was slightly disheveled as she crossed the street. Valjean stepped forward to greet her, until the woman approached the Inspector standing at the corner.

"M'sieur Inspecteur, have you seen my daughter?" Fantine asked, forcing a calm tone into her voice. "She's a tall girl, with dark hair, and a simple green dress..."

Javert's eyes were impassive as they met Fantine's gaze. "I have not seen such a girl,"

Fantine bit back a cry of dismay. "Oh surely she must have gone somewhere! Do you know who can help me, M'sieur? I haven't seen her in a few hours; she just went to run an errand in Les Halles!"

"Ask at the Prefecture. I cannot help you at the moment," Javert said.

"M'sieur, please!" Fantine begged, grabbing Javert's arm.

Javert shook her off. "Must you insist, woman?"

Valjean felt his hands grow cold as he stepped towards the pair. "Madame..." he began, clearing his throat.


	15. Decency

**Decency**

At the sound of Valjean's voice, Javert stiffened. His eyes narrowed as he turned to the former convict. _"He cannot be!"_ he thought.

It was like revisiting a nightmare of the galleys. Despite being the adjutant there so long before, Javert had hated every minute of his time in Toulon. Now, the very sound of Valjean's voice brought back a whole flood of memories of brine, chains, and the jeers of prisoners.

_"But I did see him with that dandy. Soon enough, even he will lose a step!"_ he thought. He could even remember the man's prison number: 24601. The crime? Stealing a loaf of bread. _"A simple offense for so much trouble. If I collared him now, the sentence will surely be more severe..._" he realized with a shudder.

It was all he could do to give Valjean a cordial look. "How can I help you? Or do you wish to speak with this woman?" he asked curtly. 

Valjean nodded and turned to Fantine. "I saw your daughter today, Madame. She is at the residence of Monsieur Thenardier," he said gravely.

Fantine's eyes widened with shock. "How? Why?"

"She met a minor mishap, but she is alright now," Valjean replied quickly. "Do you know the way?"

"Oui, monsieur," Fantine said, smiling with relief. "Merci! You are so kind, Monsieur...you're an angel!" she exclaimed, clasping Valjean's hand.

Javert tipped his hat to Fantine. "Then good day to you," he said before hurrying away without meeting Valjean's gaze.

"_Him? Capable of decency? I should suppose so, even if he was with Patron-Minette..."_ he thought as he walked away. Someday though, he was sure that he would have to meet Prisoner 24601 under less fortituous circumstances.

Montparnasse stretched as he walked away from the small brothel where he'd spent the night. As he checked his coat pockets, he came upon a folded paper.

"_What is this?"_ he thought as he unfolded the paper he found. His jaw fell as he realized what he was looking at. "_Damn! If I'm found with this!"_

Montparnasse tucked the map back into his coat before walking along more briskly. He tried to remember the exact address that Eponine had given him. "_Number what on the Rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau?"_

As he walked on, a hand grabbed his arm. "Pierre Montparnasse!" Eponine hissed angrily as she stepped right in front of him.

Montparnasse's smile softened. "Bonjour Eponine."

Eponine inspected Montparnasse's collar. "You spent the night where again?"

"I am free to do as I please,"

"And you didn't return the map? You're quite an idiot!" 

Montparnasse's charming face now was pale with anger. He would have struck Eponine if she hadn't been the daughter of one of his business associates. "And so what of it?" he asked coolly.

"If the gendarmes catch you with it, not even my father can help you!" Eponine said. She stood on tiptoe now so that she could look in his face. "Besides, Monsieur Enjolras is quite...displeased with me," she added, lowering her voice. 

Montparnasse felt a hot rage boil up in him. "_"Calm down, Pierre. There's nothing you can do. He's a rich man, and you? Guttersnipe turned assassin,"_ something taunted in his mind. Before he knew it, he'd shoved the papers into Eponine's hands. 

"Return them yourself, if that's what you want," he said before walking past her brusquely.

"Pierre!" Eponine said, running up to him. "You're jealous. You know I don't like him a bit. I just try to keep on good terms with him and his friends just for my father's sake!"

Montparnasse's eyes narrowed. "When will you ever get a life of your own?" he scowled.

Eponine shrugged. "I'm only sixteen." 

"When I was sixteen, I was working my way up," Montparnasse said. "Au revoir, Mademoiselle,"

He'd gone a few blocks when he realized that Eponine was no longer chasing after him. He looked back over his shoulder, then shook his head. 

"_She's just a silly girl,"_ he reminded himself before going towards the neighborhood of the Temple.


	16. Three Wretches

**Three Wretches**

It was about a bit after noon when Valjean's stomach finally took over his usual reasoning. Reluctantly, he bought a few rolls of bread and a sliver of dried meat at a small store.

As he sat on a bench to eat, he noticed a young boy running about. It was Gavroche.

The well-dressed lad stopped when he saw Valjean. "I know you!" he said.

"From where?" Valjean asked.

Gavroche drew himself up to his full height. It was now that Valjean realized that the boy had a bruise around his eye. "I saw you talking to my pere. Have you seen my sister?" 

"Not since this morning," Valjean said, turning back to his meal.

Gavroche's face crinkled with worry. "Who was she with?"

Valjean glared at the boy. "Why would you want to know?"

"Well, she's running about again. Ma mere is looking for her," Gavroche said, scratching his head.

"She was with a student."

"Ah, which one? Monsieur Pontmercy?"

"No, the other one...Monsieur Enjolras, I think."

"How now?" 

Valjean got up and dusted the crumbs off his shirt. "I do not know. Now go on your way, boy."

Gavroche drew back, amazed at Valjean's height. "Why, I'm sure you'd give Gueulemer a good knockin!" he said. "I shan't bother you..."

"Gavroche!" a voice called from up the street. Valjean turned to see a scraggly gamin with long hair that reached past his shoulders. Behind the hair and the dirt shined a lively pair of eyes.

"Bonjour Navet!" Gavroche grinned, tossing the newcomer a five franc piece. "Have yourself some lunch."

Navet caught the coin and pocketed it. "And you, Monsieur?" he asked Valjean.

"Will go on my way," Valjean said, walking past them.

"Why he's a strange one. Almost a con!" Navet jeered.

Valjean froze in his path, wondering how the boy knew. Navet and Gavroche exchanged questioning looks. "Is it true? Is that why you and Monsieur Thenardier..." Navet pressed on before Gavroche elbowed him. 

Valjean's eyes narrowed. "You will not tell this to anyone," he threatened.

Gavroche nodded. "Little folks protecting big folks. Now, which way did my sister go?" 

"I do not know," Valjean said before walking off. Gavroche and Navet stared after him for a while before running off to continue searching for Eponine.


	17. The Entangling of an Attorney

**The Entangling of an Attorney**

_elsewhere_

Marius was not quite in the habit of taking lunch, partly owing to his limited resources. However, as he took a break from translating the volumes piled up on his desk, he realized he had a little time to call upon some of his friends.

It was only natural that his steps took him towards the Luxembourg. As he arrived at the familiar promenade, he looked around eagerly for a young serving girl with a round cap. However, the only faces he found were those of strangers.

_"Now, now, Marius, she has things to do. As do you."_ he chided himself.

"Marius Pontmercy!" a voice greeted. Marius turned and found himself face to face with Bossuet. 

"Bonjour, Bossuet. How are Joly and Musichetta?" Marius greeted, trying not to stammer all the while. "_Come to think of it, do I even know his given name?"_

Bossuet gave Marius a knowing look. "Oh they're fine. I'm staying with Prouvaire nowadays though, just to give them some privacy. What about you? Can't find your mademoiselle?"

Marius felt the blood rush to his face. "Has Courfeyrac been telling you things?"

"You should join us for lunch more often, mon ami," Bossuet said lightly.

"Ah, I would if I didn't have so much to do."

"Yet you're here? Amour always before the stomach, I say."

Marius rolled his eyes. He was so sure that if word got around about him and Cosette, he would find his grandfather knocking at his door soon. However, before he could swear Bossuet to secrecy, another more terrible possibility came to mind.

"Bossuet..." Marius said, clearing his throat. "...exactly what did Courfeyrac mention to you? I want to know everything of it."

"Everything?" Bossuet said incredulously.

Marius nodded. "Spare nothing."

Bossuet sat down on a bench. "Well, the most decent: Mademoiselle Eponine Thenardier?"

Marius' jaw dropped. "What?!"

"What's it's not her?" Bossuet laughed. "So the second one must be true then; that Mademoiselle Cosette?"

Marius nodded sheepishly. "Don't tell _anyone_. My grandfather will, among other things, throw a fit. And Enjolras would surely..."

Bossuet smirked. "Enjolras can think what he wants." He leaned in, as if about to tell Marius an important secret. "Grantaire has a bet ongoing..."

Marius swallowed hard. "What about?" 

"Whether Mademoiselle Thenardier..."

Marius cringed. "Non. Non. I think my neighbor likes her. I've seen her in his company. And that is hardly a decent subject to be speculating about."

Bossuet shrugged. "Just thought you'd like to know."

Marius was about to say something to this when he felt someone tug on his coat. He wheeled around, only to see two small boys behind him. "Bonjour Gavroche...and..." 

"Navet," the smaller one finished as he brushed his long hair out of his face.

Gavroche looked at Marius and Bossuet. "More attorneys? Just when we're trying to get my sister away from the law?"

Bossuet burst out laughing. "Has this boy met Bahorel yet?"

"Perhaps. All of us have been in the Thenardiers' house at least once," Marius said. "Why, what's the matter, Gavroche?"

"My sister. Maman is looking for her. She sent me out," Gavroche said, standing tall.

Marius nodded, all the while biting back a comment about the bruise on Gavroche's face. _"I'd do something to help you if I could..."_ he thought. "Which sister?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Of course, the older one," Navet said.

"Speak of the devil..." Bossuet muttered.

Marius sighed as he looked back at the Luxembourg. It was always at this hour or so that Fantine and Cosette passed by. _"But I did promise my father..."_

He took Gavroche's and Navet's hands. "I'll help you two. Lead the way," he said. He nodded to Bossuet. "Do you want to come?" 

"I may as well," Bossuet said as they headed out to the other end of the promenade.


	18. The Lark and the Rose

**The Lark and the Rose**

_Rue des Filles du Calvaire_

"Go on into the garden, Cosette. I'll deal with Monsieur Gillenormand," Fantine said quietly to her daughter as they finished cleaning up the kitchen.

"Why, Maman?" Cosette asked.

"Well, you have that bruise on your face. I don't want him asking about it. And secondly, for Marius' sake," Fantine said.

"Oui Maman," Cosette said, opening the back door. Before she stepped out, she paused and turned back to her mother. "Maman, do you know who he is?"

"Who, cherie?"

"That old man who helped me off the pavement, then told you where to find me."

Fantine shook her head. "A kind soul, no doubt. Perhaps an angel?"

"Maybe so," Cosette said before heading out into the garden. The girl made sure to hide herself behind a rosebush till she heard the familiar sound of her mother shutting the door between the kitchen and the dining room. 

"You're quite a disgrace, Cosette," a voice said from behind her.

Cosette drew back as Eponine stepped out from behind a bush. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?" Cosette asked.

Eponine smirked at her before brushing the leaves off her dress. "I said I was visiting Mlle Gillenormand on my mother's behalf . Well, what are you doing out here? Thrown out, I bet?"

Cosette bit her lip. "Your sister was looking for you."

"Oh? Well, I'll explain to her later." Eponine said. She stepped closer to Cosette and grabbed her arm. "Now you don't go telling me things. Exactly what is it with you and Monsieur Pontmercy?" 

"Nothing!" Cosette said, trying to get out from Eponine's iron grip. "We're friends. We all grew up together. You know that!"

"You'd better swear not to have anything to do with him."

"Or...what?"

"I could get you and your mother out of your job."

"You cannot prove anything, Mademoiselle," Cosette said through clenched teeth. She pried Eponine's hand off her arm before stepping back. "A bien tot, Mademoiselle Thenardier," she said before doing a mock curtsy and walking quickly back to the house.


	19. What Waits Outside

**What Waits Outside**

After Cosette had slammed the door behind her, Eponine stood alone in the garden, color slowly rushing to her face as the full extent of her humilation sunk in.

"Dieu, this is not the way it should be," she muttered. _"How could I make so many enemies in one day?!"_ she wondered. Enjolras was angry with her, and so was Montparnasse. Now with Cosette angry, it would only be a matter of time till Eponine was in Marius' black book as well.

Eponine gritted her teeth as she paced the garden path. She found a tall stone and used it to climb over the wall. As she perched on top of the wall, she felt a little dizzy. She was relieved to let herself drop on the other side of the street...

...right in the path of Jean Valjean.

"Your mother is looking for you," the convict said sternly, recovering from the surprise rather quickly.

Eponine froze. She forced herself to meet his gaze. "She is?" she asked meekly.

"Go home, mademoiselle." Valjean said.

"Why, she sent you to tell me?" Eponine asked, her tone turning insolent

"Your brother is looking for you." Valjean added.

At this, Eponine's expression suddenly grew wan. "Very well then," she whispered. "If you see him, tell him I'm home, won't you?" she added before fleeing up the street, away from Valjean's knowing look. She could practically feel _pity_ in his eyes.

_"He can't pity me. He's just a con..."_ she thought as she rounded the corner. She did not notice however when the papers she'd kept in her pocket suddenly slipped out and landed in the gutter. 

One person did see however. As Eponine hailed a fiacre and left the area, Inspector Javert walked over and using his cane, fished out the papers from the mud. Gingerly, he picked them up and examined them.

"The handwriting's decipherable," he noted as he wiped off the papers and tucked them into his coat.


	20. The Latin Quartier

**The Latin Quartier**

_evening_

"What makes you think she'll be here?" Marius asked Bossuet as they left yet another cafe in the area.

Bossuet shrugged. "I meant to ask if any of our comrades had seen her," he said as he tried to keep a grip on Navet's grubby collar.

"Well what are we waiting for? Let's go to the Musain then," Gavroche said as he wiped his hands on his pants. "Is that where you always---"

Bossuet nodded to him quickly, as if trying to get him to keep quiet. "I guess there's nothing to lose," he said as he grabbed Marius' arm to drag him along.

"Don't do that. There's a gendarme about!" Marius hissed, gesturing furtively to the corner.

Bossuet gave him an anguished look. "We're not the only ones watching," he said, shooting a glance across the street.

"Too late for that," Marius said in an undertone as he noticed Javert walking up to them.

Javert gave the two young men and the two boys a once-over. "Marius Pontmercy?" he asked the nervous attorney.

"Oui. How can I help you, Monsieur Inspecteur?" Marius said, sounding like he had a lump in his throat.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions..."

Bossuet shook his head. 'He's ill, he needs rest," he cut in quickly. "Look at him, he hasn't eaten in a few days..."

Marius grinned weakly, trying to look a bit more crazed than he usually did. "Perhaps I should see a doctor first..."

Javert rolled his eyes. "Do you think that can fool me?" he said coldly.

Suddenly, a window shattered across the street. "Hey you, gamin!" an irate shopkeeper yelled.

"Run!" Navet shouted to Gavroche. The two boys took off down the street.

Javert glared at them, giving just enough time for Marius to half-drag Bossuet away by his coat. The two men fled down an alley, towards the Rue de Gres.

Bossuet stopped at a door and practically shoved it open with his shoulder. He and Marius ran up the stairs, right into the backroom of the Cafe Musain.

"That's strange. Where is everyone?" Bossuet asked.

Just then, the front door opened. Enjolras stood there, with Gavroche and Navet in tow. The law student's clothes were disheveled, and his hair was plastered with mud.

"Dieu, what happened to you?" Marius said when he'd recovered his wits.

Enjolras sat down in a chair and motioned for Bossuet and Marius to follow suit. He took a deep breath. "I think, mes amis, that there is a police informant someplace," he said sternly.

A deadly silence fell across the room. "Who?" Bossuet asked.

Marius and Enjolras exchanged a knowing look. "We can't accuse anyone yet," Marius said.

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing Grantaire. Strangely, he was standing up straight. "We have to get out of here!" he said.

'And why?" Enjolras asked. 

"Cognes!" Navet exclaimed as footsteps sounded from outside.

The men looked around. "Where? Once we get outside..." Bossuet said.

Gavroche fished in his pocket and brought out a key. "I think I have a way..." he said.


	21. Look Down Past the Paving

**Look Down Past the Paving**

"Out the backdoor," Enjolras ordered. "Grantaire, lock the front door behind you."

Marius half-shoved Gavroche and Navet out before hurrying down the stairs with them. Bossuet and Grantaire followed suit, leaving Enjolras to close the backroom door. For good measure, he put a chair against the locked door.

"That's the key to where?" Bossuet asked Gavroche as they ran towards a side street. The path sloped downwards, into a muck-filled alley.

Navet bent down and pulled a loose grate aside from the paving. "Here," he said.

"There?!" Marius said, trying not to gag as he backed away from the fetid hole.

"Oui. I don't care what happens anymore," Bossuet said as he dropped in after Grantaire and Gavroche. He stopped only to catch Navet before disappearing into the dark.

"Pontmercy, just get in. You can clean yourself up later!" Enjolras snapped when he noticed Marius' hesitation. He had to pull the flabbergasted lawyer in just before footsteps sounded from the next street.

The sewer was narrow and cramped. Water and all kinds of mire sloshed around the ankles of the students as they tried to make their way through the passage. Navet climbed up on a ledge jutting out from the sewer wall and looked around.

"Up which way?" Gavroche asked, breathing shallowly through his mouth.

"North. South is Patron-Minette, non?" Navet asked fearfully.

Gavroche looked at the young men. "Hey, Monsieur Marius, do you talk to Parnasse a great deal?"

Marius shook his head. "He's out often."

"North then," Gavroche said as they continued walking. Now and then, they had to stop owing to odd sounds of thumping from the direction they were headed.

A rat squeaked as Bossuet passed by. Grantaire gulped and looked around, wide-eyed. "Where will this end?"

"The Seine," Enjolras answered. "From there, we can head different ways." 

Bossuet nodded, though he looked as if he was going to be sick due to the stench. "Gavroche, do people actually live here?"

"Sometimes," Navet said. "I do, and I wash myself off when the laundrywomen aren't looking." 

Suddenly, Marius stiffened. "Someone's headed this way." 

"I say, Montparnasse what are you headed for?" a voice said.

Everyone froze. "Eponine?!" Marius whispered.

Enjolras shook his head. "Oh no..."


	22. A Tangled Web

**A Tangled Web**

In the darkness of the sewers, Enjolras could barely see his friends, much less the two newcomers to the scene. Since he figured he'd lost his sense of smell some time back, he knew he could only rely on his hearing to help him out.

He heard Bossuet's hand thump against a wall. "Mademoiselle, what are you and your friend doing here?"

A surprised shriek sounded from up the tunnel. "Monsieur Lesgle?"

"And Messeurs Pontmercy, Enjolras, and Grantaire, along with your brother and another friend of his," Bossuet replied.

"There now, I have no chance of doing what I came to do here," Montparnasse growled.

"I don't think I want to know what that is," Grantaire muttered from beside Enjolras. "Move over, Pontmercy."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Marius said weakly from nearby.

Enjolras felt little Navet's hand on his arm. To his surprise, the gamin's fingers were cold. "What business do you have here, Citizen?" he called. 

Footsteps started coming towards them. Enjolras could now distinguish Montparnasse's tall form, now hatless and up to his shin in filth. Eponine appeared a moment later, holding up the hem of her dress.

"Are you fleeing the gendarmes or something?" Eponine asked.

"No thanks to you," Enjolras said. He was not about to accuse her outright of giving them up to the police, but he had an inkling that Eponine's possession of the map must have played a part in the sudden raid on the Musain.

Eponine paled visibly in the darkness. "What are you talking about?" 

"I don't know, Enjolras, I think that the gendarmes have been on our tail for some time," Bossuet said uneasily. "They knew Marius' name."

"I've seen that Inspector about before," Marius said slowly, strain evident in his voice. "He did talk to my concierge."

"Despite all precautions." Grantaire laughed.

"All the more reason we should find a way out of here. Other people may be in danger," Enjolras said disdainfully. "Though that does not explain what you are doing here," he added more pointedly, looking at Eponine. He did not want to meet Montparnasse's eyes; he was so sure he'd seen the dandy before.

"It's just business." Montparnasse said.

"But why do we have to meet them here?" Eponine asked. "I mean, this is hardly decent. And my dress!"

"Papa made you come down here?" Gavroche asked.

"Oui, Vroche. I don't know why he doesn't go down himself," Eponine said petulantly. "It's his new hat, I bet."

Suddenly, more footsteps sounded, this time from the south. "Ah, more friends, Montparnasse?" a scratchy voice sounded from behind them.

Montparnasse drew himself to his full height. "Bonjour, Babet."


	23. What Goes On In Higher Places

**What Goes On In Higher Places**

_elsewhere_

For the first time since coming to Paris, Jean Valjean was lost.

The elderly man heard the bells of Notre Dame tolling the hour as he paced in front of a shop. He kept his eye on a badly-dressed student who was chatting up a lovely grisette.

"See, there our Lady never fails to keep watch," Valjean heard Prouvaire say in the girl's ear. "There are some constant things though besides her vigilance..."

"_Love, something only for those who can afford,"_ the former convict thought. He looked around impatiently; where was Brujon, he wondered.

"_Do they need me that badly for what they have to maquiller?"_ he mused. He felt the weight of the crowbar in the long sack he'd slung over his back. After a while, he set off towards the south, towards the river.

He tried to follow faithfully the directions that Babet had given him some days before. "Pont au change...someplace past that," he muttered.

He went down the stairs to the riverbank, and followed the streetlights towards the abandoned grate in the wall. Wrinkling his nose slightly, Valjean peered in, hoping to see a familiar face looking out.

However, as soon as he put his face to the grille, he heard an unholy shriek from within the passage.

"What's going on in there?!" he shouted, tapping on the metal grille. Panic rose in his chest; as much as he was wary of Patron-Minette, he did not want them caught in any accidents, more out of practical reasons than of actual concern. 

"Do you need help, Monsieur?" a voice asked. Valjean found himself face to face with a well-dressed bourgeois man. However, this newcomer hid his form with a greatcoat and a wide-brimmed hat.

"Some trouble there," Valjean said.

Thenardier lifted off his hat. "Worse than that, Valjean. Who has the other key?"

"I don't know." 

Thenardier grimaced. "That's the answer I feared," he said, moving to unlock the sewer grate.


	24. A Clash of Thought

**A Clash of Thought**

In most situations, Eponine would have been the first to cause a commotion, but in this one, she was much too horrified to do anything.

When the argument began, Eponine leaned against a wall, frozen to the spot as she tried to shield Gavroche with her body. She cringed as a body splashed into the water, and wound up soaking her dress. As footsteps hurried away from the scene, she wanted to curse Montparnasse, Babet, and all of Patron-Minette, but found her voice dead in her throat.

She became aware of a groan from near her feet. _"They hurt someone!_" she realized.

"Dieu! Grantaire!" Bossuet shouted as he went to his wounded friend.

"Where was he stabbed?" Enjolras said as he tried to help Grantaire out of the mire.

"The shoulder," Eponine said softly, now having found her voice again. To her surprise, her words came out raspy.

"Are you alright, mademoiselle?" Marius asked her concernedly. 

Eponine nodded as she shakily tore a strip from her sleeve to bind Grantaire's wound. To her amusement, she realized that Bossuet and Enjolras had removed their cravats for bandages. "_In other situations, this would be scandalous..."_ the thought crossed her mind.

Navet whimpered and buried his face in his shirtsleeve. "I want to get out of here," the boy said. 

"Don't worry Navet, you can stay at my place," Gavroche said.

"Gavroche, Maman won't let you bring him home!" Eponine protested.

"Then he'll stay...no, not with me. Montparnasse is my neighbor," Marius said with a shudder.

Enjolras shook his head grimly as he and Bossuet propped up an injured Grantaire. "We'll decide all of that once we leave this place," he said.

"More footsteps coming!" Grantaire moaned.

Everyone exchanged frightened and wary looks. "We can't fight, not like this," Marius said. "Eponine, get the boys out of here. We'll handle this." 

"I don't know the way. Montparnasse guided me here," Eponine retorted hotly. "And I can't leave you alone." 

"Well, shouldn't you be off with that scoundrel?" Enjolras asked Eponine coolly.

"You stop it," Eponine threatened. "I wasn't the one who told the gendarmes, but I can and will..."

"Enjolras, Mademoiselle Thenardier, not now," Bossuet said.

"How now, what are you doing here?" the voice of M. Thenardier greeted. 

Eponine turned towards the newcomers to the sewer. "Papa!" 

"Eponine, you silly girl. And Gavroche too?" M. Thenardier said, looking at his children incredulously. "And the young gentlemen?"

Marius walked awkwardly to Thenardier. "Sir, could you please do us some service? Our friend is wounded..."

"And you'll need a fiacre and a doctor?" Thenardier asked Marius jovially. "Valjean there will get the doctor once we've helped your friend out. I'll hail that fiacre myself personally, if you don't mind."

Valjean went to help relieve Bossuet and Enjolras with their burden. "He doesn't like to be jostled too much," Enjolras said as Valjean took Bossuet's place at Grantaire's right shoulder.

"The one night that Grantaire is sober, and this happens," Bossuet laughed dryly.

"Stay close together," Thenardier instructed. "We don't need a run-in again with unsavory folk, do we?"

"_Doesn't matter even if you know them,"_ Eponine scowled as they began to make their way out of the sewers.


	25. The River

**The River**

"At last!"

"Quiet now, Gavroche, there are probably gendarmes about."

"Wait here, I think I have the key, mes amis..."

It took some working to push the gate the other way, but at last the motely group managed it before almost spilling out onto the riverbank. Thenardier and his children quickly brushed muck off their clothing while Marius gasped for fresh air. Navet and Bossuet ran to the rushing water to clean their faces. Meanwhile, Valjean helped Enjolras set Grantaire down on his back. The wounded man was pale, and his skin was clammy.

"That wasn't a good trip," Valjean muttered.

Enjolras nodded. "We have two friends...Joly and Combeferre. Could you fetch them, sil vous plait?" he said hurriedly.

"He won't last long," Valjean observed grimly.

"What? How would you know that?" Bossuet demanded, wiping water off his face.

"Calm down, Monsieur Lesgle, they can hear you up there," Eponine said, gesturing to the street above them.

"The sooner we get out of here the better," Marius muttered as he tried to clean up his coat. "No way am I going back to my room..."

"You could stay with--" Enjolras and Eponine said at the same time before they both trailed off, obviously embarrassed.

"Actually, I think the gendarmes are watching our respective places," Marius said, crossing his arms. "So imagine what they would make of us traipsing back there with Grantaire in tow..."

"I haven't seen any outside my flat," Enjolras said stiffly. "But still, you're right. We have to take precautions."

"Oh I know," Bossuet grinned. "Joly's place."

"Aren't you staying there yourself?" Enjolras asked.

"I'm sure he and Musichetta wouldn't mind a few more guests even for the night," Bossuet shrugged.

"What about me?" Navet asked.

"We'll take him along," Enjolras said, nodding to Bossuet.

Thenardier listened to this entire discussion intently. "Now that the first question is settled...can I bring my little ones home?"

Eponine nodded and looked around. "Gavroche! Where are you?" she shouted.

"He slipped off...what for?" Marius asked. 

"Oh Dieu, help me find him..." Eponine said, beginning to pace the walk.

Marius bit his lip. "Enjolras, Bossuet, get Grantaire to safety. I'll help out the Thenardiers for a while."

"If you aren't in Joly's flat by midnight, we'll look for you," Enjolras said curtly before Marius followed Eponine and her father into the night.

Valjean by this time had lifted Grantaire up. "You hail the fiacre," he said to Enjolras.

Enjolras walked up to the street and looked around. The handsome student was quite a sight in his soaking wet and foul-smelling clothing. Still, a few grisettes tittered at his appearance.

He noticed a fiacre drive by and he signaled to the driver. The driver opened the door.

"Where to?" the gruff man asked.

"Thirteen Rue Saint-Honore," Enjolras said, glancing to where Valjean was with Bossuet and Grantaire. Navet appeared a few seconds later.

Valjean helped Bossuet and Enjolras put Grantaire into the fiacre. "Merci, citoyen," Enjolras said to Valjean. "Is there any way we can help you?"

"Speak nothing of it," Valjean said grimly before heading off in the direction that Marius and the Thenardiers had gone. Enjolras nodded before joining Bossuet and Navet in the fiacre.


	26. An Inspector Pays a Visit

**An Inspector Pays a Visit**

_Rue des Filles du Calvaire_

"_It is a vague lead, but it is better than nothing_" Javert thought as he knocked on the door of M. Gillenormand's house. He looked through his notes again to ensure that he was at the right address.

After some time the door opened slightly to reveal Cosette. "Good evening, Monsieur Inspecteur. How may I help you?" she asked warily.

"Mademoiselle, I am looking for Monsieur Marius Pontmercy," Javert said. "Has he been here recently?"

Cosette shook her head. "I haven't seen him since this morning, M'sieur. Is he in trouble?" 

Javert tried to prevent any expression from forming on his face. "Non, mademoiselle," he replied. "_She probably knows him too well..."_ he remarked to himself. 

Some footsteps sounded in the passage. "Cosette, who are you talking to?" Fantine asked from inside.

"An Inspector, Maman. He's looking for Marius," Cosette said. 

"Silly, he doesn't live here," Fantine said chidingly. She peered out at Javert and her eyes darkened. "We will tell you if we see him, M'sieur," she said before shutting the door.

Javert stood at the doorstep, stunned at having the door closed on him so abruptly, and by such a familiar face. "All the same, I will keep watch," he muttered before retreating back in the street.  
Back inside, Fantine let out a sigh of relief. "Cosette, what were you doing?" she said as she locked the door again.

"I couldn't just leave him at the door, Maman," Cosette said in an undertone. "Wait, who's in the kitchen with Marius?"

"Mademoiselle Thenardier and her younger brother," Fantine said, wringing her hands. "Did Monsieur Thenardier say when he'd be back for his children?"

"In five minutes," Cosette said, her eyes glancing at the clock. She went to the kitchen door and opened it. "Marius, it's safe now."

"Merci, Cosette," Marius said, emerging from his hiding place in a broom cabinet. Eponine, who was seated at the kitchen table, put down the novel she was reading while Gavroche polished off the last of a cream cake that Fantine had given to him earlier in the evening.

"Marius, are you sure you do not want to stay with my family?" Eponine said crossly.

"I'm afraid I cannot. My friends are looking for me," Marius said as he began fixing his disheveled clothing.

"The police are watching Monsieur Enjolras' apartment, I'm sure,"

"We're going elsewhere." 

Eponine rolled her eyes. "Can you tell me?"

"No," Marius said curtly.

Cosette listened to all of this quietly, all the while fighting to keep from bursting out into a fit of giggling. "It was a good thing you came here to hide, Gavroche," she said to Eponine's brother.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Gavroche asked, licking his fingers.

"What for? Maman will be looking for you," Eponine pointed out. 

"Non, she won't," Gavroche said, grinning cheekily. "I say, I can go with you, Monsieur Pontmercy. Navet's with your friends, I remember. Ruffians must stick together."

Cosette nodded to Marius. "If it's fine with your friends. M. Gillenormand would have a fit to see him here, as much as we like your company," she said.

"Not as much as he would if he found me here," Marius said wryly.

Cosette touched his arm briefly as she went out to the front door again. She smiled at Fantine and Marius. "Monsieur Thenardier is here!" 

"Finally," Eponine said, dusting off her dress a she stood up. "A bien tot, Cosette," she said icily, flouncing out of the kitchen. "Are you coming, Marius?" she called over her shoulder.

"My apologies, but I think I'm better off walking. My lodgings are not in the same quartier as yours," Marius said cordially.

Eponine sighed. "Gavroche?"

"See you in the morning," 

"You're a stubborn brat."

"Well, I do like my running," Gavroche said, drawing himself up to his full height.

Eponine bit her lip. "Gavroche, you can just...I don't want you in trouble, petit. Really. You don't have to talk to Maman. Just go straight to bed, and she won't bother you." 

Gavroche frowned. "Fine, but if the trumpets come again, I'm off to the march!" he said defiantly, going out ahead of his sister.

Fantine watched them leave before she shook her head. "You youngsters. How much you all like to do!" she remarked.

"Maman, nothing is the same as it used to be," Cosette said.

Marius bowed dignifiedly. "I'll see you tomorrow, ladies?"

"Marius, be careful!" Cosette begged.

"You won't have to get me out of jail this time, cherie," Marius said, dropping his voice. He put on his hat and smiled at her somberely before heading out the back door into the night.

Cosette collapsed in a chair. "I'm so scared for him."

Fantine nodded concernedly as she lit a candle. "All we can do is pray, Cosette. And God do the rest and help us keep our silence,"


	27. Unwanted Guests

**Unwanted Guests**

_Thirteen Rue Saint-Honore_

Patrice Joly usually kept his door locked for two reasons: when he was away, he was afraid of thieves coming in, and secondly, whenever he was at home, he was likely to be with Musichetta.

This evening, as Musichetta sat in his lap, occasionally planting lazy kisses on his jaw, Joly could not help but feel a little nervous. He could have sworn that he felt his throat becoming scratchy en route home from the medical school. 

"Chetta, aren't you afraid of catching my colds?" he asked his mistress.

"Patrice, last week, you said you had the cholera. But it was just Bossuet's attempt at cooking," the grisette said teasingly.

"Non, this time it's serious, cherie," Joly said.

Musichetta swatted his shoulder. "It's always one thing after another!"

"I don't want you to get sick..." Joly protested.

"Goodness..." Musichetta pouted as she got off his lap. "What will I do with you?"

Joly chuckled as he got up and grabbed her around her waist. "You're rather reckless," he said before kissing her. Musichetta began fiddling with his cravat as he pushed her up against a wall.

However, at this convenient moment, a knock sounded on the door. "Now where is my key?" Bossuet mumbled from outside.

"Go away Bossuet" Joly shouted. 

"Joly, we need help. Badly," Bossuet said. "It's Grantaire."

"Why? Unconscious again?" 

"Unconscious and wounded at your doorstep, Joly." Enjolras cut in curtly.

Joly muttered under his breath as he tore himself away from Musichetta. He ran his hands through his hair as he went to open the door. "Where have you been?" he gaped. He wrinkled his nose at the stench.

"The sewers," Navet grinned as Bossuet and Enjolras lugged Grantaire into the flat. 

Musichetta shrieked at the sight of the four dirty newcomers. "Be careful!" she shouted, clearing away the cutlery and books from the table. She quickly fetched a kettle to boil water with while Joly went for his bag of medical instruments.

"What happened?" Joly asked as he began searching through his bag. 

"We were in the Rue de Gres," Enjolras began. "The gendarmes raided the Musain, and we hid in the sewers. There, we were attacked."

'By who?" Musichetta asked. 

"Patron-Minette," Navet said, going for a tin of biscuits that Musichetta had left open earlier in the day. 

Musichetta groaned. "I hope none of them followed you here!" She winced as Joly ripped Grantaire's shirt open to expose the wound.

Joly undid the makeshift bandages and probed the wound gently and cleaned it up using hot water and a washcloth. "Some damage, but nothing we can't handle here. He'll be weak for a few days, but he'll live."

"Enjolras, why were you covered with mud when we saw you?" Bossuet asked. 

"I was running from the gendarmes, and I had to also break up a fistfight," Enjolras winced.

"I bet they'll have the entire Latin Quartier in an uproar soon," Joly observed as Musichetta handed him a needle and thread.

"Advancing the emeute forward," Enjolras said. "It was supposed to be after the New Year. A premature effort will doom us all." 

Bossuet looked at the clock. "Did Pontmercy say when he'd be here?"

"Non. It's only been little more than an hour since we last saw him," Enjolras said. "One more hour, then we should be worried."

As if summoned by Bossuet's words, another knock sounded on the door. "It's unlocked," Navet called.

Marius stumbled in, only looking a little cleaner than his comrades. "How's he?" he asked, glancing at Grantaire.

"Hope he wakes up so we can check him over better," Joly said as he continued stitching up Grantaire's wound.

Marius nodded as he took a seat beside Bossuet. "We found Gavroche. Hiding in my grandfather's house. That poor boy is too afraid to go home."

"Why?" Enjolras asked.

"His mother."

Musichetta made a little pained noise. "I've seen him. That poor boy. I want to help him, but what can we do?"

"He's got only his sisters to stand between him and his mother," Marius said. "There, I'd give them some credit," he added, giving Enjolras a knowing look.

Enjolras glared at Marius. "What then?"

"You practically accused her of bringing the police on our trail," Marius said.

"And I know you feel you owe something to her family, but there are other important things at stake," Enjolras retorted hotly.

Bossuet looked at his friends uneasily. "But wasn't it Mademoiselle Thenardier who helped you get out of jail some days ago? If she wanted to turn you in to the police, she would have just left you there."

Enjolras bit his lip and looked down, obviously chastised. "Still, that does not explain everything."

"I think we're all going to have to change addresses from now on..." Joly said uncomfortably. "Courfeyrac says that the Rue de la Verrerie..."

"He can take that place," Enjolras said. "I'm moving elsewhere, probably to Picpus. Combeferre is there now. You, Marius?"

"If I had enough money..." the younger man said uncomfortably.

"I'll split the rent," Bossuet grinned.

Musichetta and Joly exchanged grimaces. "Is that such a good idea?" Joly asked. 

"Why not? Maybe Lady Fortune smiles better on Pontmercy. Actually she does already..." Bossuet said.

"Yes, and her name is Cosette?" Joly asked, much to Marius' discomfiture.

"How did you know?" Marius asked. 

"Word gets around," Grantaire suddenly said. 

"Grantaire! You're awake!" Bossuet exclaimed. 

Grantaire groaned as he looked around. 'Where am I?" 

"Joly's flat," Enjolras replied.

Grantaire nodded. "Tell me everything from the beginning."

Enjolras nodded to Bossuet. "Your turn," he said, going to get himself a glass of water.


	28. Sinking In

**Sinking In**

Long after everyone else had gone to sleep in Joly's flat, Enjolras lay awake, looking at the darkened ceiling above him. He was on a mat on the floor; Grantaire had taken the sofa, while Marius put several chairs together for a makeshift bed. Bossuet had a mattress on the floor, which he shared with Navet. Across the room, Joly and Musichetta were sound asleep, in each other's arms.

Enjolras smoothed down his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. He heard Marius groan in his sleep, and then murmur something about the sewers. The younger man curled up, as if trying to avoid something. 

"The shock is setting in," Enjolras muttered. It was because of these memories and flashbacks that he couldn't sleep. The initial fright had been banished by the bantering he and his friends had shared while tending to Grantaire, but now, the full gravity of the situation was beginning to weigh on them.

_"That was too close"_ Enjolras realized. Normally, after such an attack, he would have gone straight to the police to ask for assistance. But even now, he was hiding from the law. "_I can't trust anyone so easily anymore..."_

He sighed with relief as he looked at his sleeping friends. Of course he could trust them. He could almost say the same for the other people he worked with in the revolutionary movement. But what of everyone else? 

_"One day, maybe,"_ Enjolras reminded himself as he walked to the window. The moon was setting over Paris, casting the city in a dark yellow glow. The dying light caught in Enjolras' hair, making it seem more golden then ever. The young man put on one of Joly's coats and slipped out into the street. Joly had forgotten, in his haste, to lock the door.

Outside, it was very cold. Autumn was clearly here. Enjolras blew on his hands for warmth as he tried to think. He figured out how he was going to warn the Courgarde and the other groups; he would have to do it surrepitiously while he was at the university the next day. _"Easier said than done."_

He became aware of a tiny figure darting in and out of the shadows, followed by another, bigger one. "_It can't be..."_ Enjolras thought as he went towards the scene.

Suddenly, one of the figures bumped into him. "Ouch! Monsieur!" Gavroche complained.

Enjolras stepped back before grabbing the boy by his shoulders. "What are you doing here?" he asked. It was only then that he realized that Gavroche had a small valise with him. 

"Going with him," Gavroche said, looking back to the other man on the street.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow as Valjean came into view. "And why?"

"Ponine broke her promise." Gavroche said, rubbing at the newest bruise on his arm. "She said Maman wouldn't have to deal with me when we got home."

Enjolras looked at Valjean. "Is this true?"

Valjean shrugged. "I don't know. The boy needs a place to stay for the night," he said.

Enjolras winced. "_Forget what Pontmercy will say about that. This is a crisis,"_ he decided. "Where do you live?" he asked Valjean.

Valjean's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to know?"

Enjolras looked Valjean in the eye. "To tell his sisters in the morning," he said. _"But that knowledge is more for Pontmercy's perusal, not mine."_. 

"Find me in Les Halles," Valjean said, taking Gavroche gently by the shoulder and leading him off. Enjolras watched them as far as the corner before returning to Joly's flat.


	29. Hook, Line, Sinker

**Hook, Line, and Sinker**

Usually, Cosette was up by the crack of dawn in order to attend to her chores. However, on this particular morning, she'd been too exhausted to wake up at her usual hour.

What eventually got her out of bed however was the sound of an enraged man in the dining room.

_"Dieu, what's happened?"_ she wondered as she hurriedly dressed and sprang out of her room. To her horror as she neared the dining room, she realized that the voice belonged to none other than M. Gillenormand.

"My Marius, here? And neither of you told me!" the nonagnerian roared at Fantine, who stood ramrod straight in a corner.

"Monsieur, he explicitly told me not to tell anyone," Fantine said, raising her chin. "He was hiding, and he had nowhere else to go." 

Cosette bit her lip. "_Maman, don't lie, sil vous plait..."_ she thought as she tried to make herself inconspicuous.

"Oh, so he hides here when his precious Republic gets him in trouble?" M. Gillenormand muttered. 'There you go, Monsieur le Baron, the servant's quarters for your lodging? Say, how is the conversation there, so fitting with your strutting about with the Republic and your Jacobins, and you think you can hide when your father is upstairs, with his books? I haven't gone deaf yet, you insolent brat..."

It was at this point that Cosette committed the fatal mistake of letting the door shut behind her. Fantine barely flinched, while M. Gillenormand almost jumped. 

The old man turned to Fantine, and his eyes were now cold though they glistened with tears. "I heard him talking to your daughter..."

"Monsieur..." Fantine begged. 

"Nicolette, you and your daughter have an hour to pack your things."

"Monsieur Gillenormand!" 

"Out!"

Cosette ran forward to steady her mother, who looked as if she about to faint. "Maman..." 

Fantine met Cosette's wide-eyed gaze. "Get your things, cherie," she murmured, leading Cosette out. M. Gillenormand muttered something before pushing away the remains of his breakfast. The old man glanced towards where the women had gone before collapsing into his chair, burying his face in his hands as his shoulders shook with sobs.

000000

Jean Valjean was not used to harboring children in his flat.

Gavroche had been too tired during the night to do much else besides sleeping, but as soon as the boy had regained his energy, he was up to his usual mischief.

Valjean hurriedly put on his yellow coat as he watched Gavroche running about the small room, singing cheerily. The child was a pitiful yet comical sight in his oversized clothing and his bruised limbs.

"What will you do for the rest of the day?" Valjean asked him.

Gavroche stopped and looked up at Valjean. "Read? Go to the opera maybe?"

Valjean fished in his pocket for a few coins, which he handed to Gavroche. "There, stay out of trouble."

Gavroche looked at the money in his hands and his eyes went a little wide. "Monsieur, you think that smooth-faced student will tell Ponine where I am?" 

"I don't know," Valjean answered gravely as he combed out his hair. _"Not like it's any of my business."_ he thought.

Gavroche went to the window and looked down. "Say, I see my sister down there, with that Montparnasse," he said. "So he did tell her."

Before Valjean could say anything, Gavroche was already out of the flat. The old man followed him quickly out onto the street, which was starting to fill up with people. Valjean hung back to watch as Gavroche approached the two young people across the narrow walk.

Montparnasse was impeccably dressed as he leaned against a post, twirling a rose between his fingers. Eponine on the other hand was quite a mess; her hair was tumbling out of her hat, and her dress was creased.

"Why are you telling me this?" Montparnasse asked.

"Because you're my friend," Eponine said, her voice almost on the point of cracking. "Doesn't it worry you a little?"

"Why should it?"

"I thought you loved me." 

"Once."

Gavroche, obviously unable to resist his curiosity, tapped Eponine's arm. "Ponine, what's happened?"

Eponine wheeled around to face her brother. "Vroche! You've been giving me a fright. What did you do that for?"

"I had to. But what's happened to you?" Gavroche asked. In the light, tearstains were becoming apparent on Eponine's face.

Eponine bit her lip. "Maman is not looking for you. And Papa told me this morning some news..." 

"Which is?" Gavroche asked.

Eponine sighed. "I'm getting married."


	30. A Sister's Version of Events

**A Sister's Version of the Events**

That afternoon, at the Thenardiers' house, Azelma made a great show of looking engrossed in her crochet, while listening to the harangues in the next room.

"When I get my hands on that girl, she's going to regret running out on us!" Thenardier said as he put down the morning paper.

"Can you blame her? She's only a child! She can't get married," Mme. Thenardier snapped.

"She won't have to till she turns seventeen next year," Thenardier said. "And we still have to arrange matters with her fiance..."

"She doesn't love him!" the mother protested. "How can you do this to your own daughter?!"

"I'm only doing what's best for her. You yourself said that she'd be better off married to..." 

"You scoundrel!"

By this time, Azelma covered her ears with her hands and headed out to the garden. As she seated herself on the fence to work, she caught sight of a well-dressed young man walking up to the house, carrying a small box. 

"Maurice!" she hissed to the visitor.

Courfeyrac paused and looked at her. "Bonjour, cherie," he greeted as Azelma slipped off the fence and went to him.

"Un baiser?" the girl teased, looking up at him.

"As you wish," Courfeyrac said as he kissed her lightly. "What's going on in there?" he asked when he stepped back.

"Oh awful," Azelma whispered. "My frere has run away in the night, and Eponine is out too."

"Oh, why?" 

"Gavroche was in trouble. As usual."

"And your sister?"

"She's engaged, and she doesn't like it."

Courfeyrac burst out laughing. "Are we acquainted with the gentleman in question?" he asked.

Azelma nodded. "One of your closest amis."

"Not Marius, I hope?"

"He's got a serving girl. That idiot."

"Such strong language, my girl. What, is it Jehan?"

"Non, silly. It's M. Enjolras." 

Courfeyrac stared at Azelma. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Why, of all the men in Paris...I thought she detested him?"

Azelma nodded. "Well, Monsieur Enjolras came here early today, saying he knew where Gavroche had run off to last night. Eponine got it out of him alright, but my pere heard them talking. Well then, as soon as my sister left the room to talk to me, they must have talked a bit. But next thing I knew, my pere called Eponine into the front room, then not a minute later, she left the house!"

Courfeyrac whistled as he tried to make sense of this narrative. "Well, something must have happened that you didn't know about, because it is not like Enjolras to suddenly propose marriage to anyone."

"I know." 

"Either that or..."

"My father is lying? Or just hoping that he _will_ actually propose to my sister?"

"Perhaps."

Azelma's eyes riveted on the box Courfeyrac held. "What's that you're carrying?"

Courfeyrac handed the box to her. "A trinket."

Azelma opened it and nearly squealed. "Earrings! Brilliants...Maurice, what have you planned then?" 

"Why, is it wrong for me to give gifts to you?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Non," Azelma grinned. "Are you going someplace? There's some food and wine inside, if you want." 

"I already had lunch, at my new residence. I've moved to the Rue de la Verrerie," Courfeyrac said.

"Why, you do not like the Latin Quartier?"

"I have better lodgings."

Azelma shrugged, not quite buying this excuse. "Anyway, where are you off to? Can I join you for a while?"

"Actually, I was about to see some friends. For some odd reason, everyone is removing today."

"Oh!" 

Courfeyrac adjusted his cravat. "I meant to be of help, but I could use pleasant company along the way."

Azelma nodded as she took Courfeyrac's arm. "Allow me to be that, Monsieur," she said with a smile.


	31. Picpus

**Picpus**

Combeferre had to restrain his laughter when he caught sight of his best friend walking up to his apartment. It was not unusual for Enjolras to simply turn up in the neighborhood of Picpus; in fact, he was pretty known to most of the dwellers on that old street. However, what was strange now about Enjolras' apperance was the bruise on his left cheek.

"What's happened to you, Enjolras?" Combeferre asked mildly as he met his friend at the door of his flat.

Enjolras' eyes narrowed as he set down his luggage. "The worst of all misfortunes."

"I heard about what happened last night. How's Grantaire?" Combeferre said concernedly.

"Still resting at Joly's flat. Joly says he should be up and about in a week," Enjolras replied. "You and the rest can visit today."

"Perhaps later," Combeferre said. He eyed the things that Enjolras brought. "You're moving _here_?"

"Maybe only for the night,"

"Now, don't be stubborn. You can stay as long as you like; it will be easier if we split the rent, I daresay,"

"Merci, Combeferre."

The medical student gestured to the bruise on Enjolras' face. "That looks too fresh to be from last night. It looks like...a lady's ring?"

Enjolras went scarlet. "It is a rather sordid tale,"

Now Combeferre was intrigued as he picked up some of Enjolras' bags. "Is it too sordid for me to hear?" 

"Well, you might be able to help me remedy it," Enjolras said through gritted teeth as he put some of his things on a table. "My parents have _ordered_ me to get married in a year's time...to Mademoiselle Thenardier the elder." 

Combeferre's eyes widened. "What are you going to do? You said yourself that when the revolution begins..."

"I know, Combeferre. Though how I am going to get my parents and her parents to forget that silly idea is beyond me."

"That doesn't explain that bruise."

Enjolras smiled crookedly, as if he found some dark humor in the matter. "She's as unhappy about it as I am. Perhaps even more so. So when her father told her...I was unfortunate to be in the same room she was in." 

Combeferre winced. "And when's the wedding scheduled?" 

"End of June, next year," Enjolras muttered miserably. "I'm hoping that the revolution actually does happen before then."

"Well, you have plenty of time. It's only the end of November."

"Merci for reminding me,"

Just then, the door opened a bit. "May we come in?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Who's 'we'?" Combeferre asked.

"Azelma and myself."

Enjolras buried his head in his hands. "One thing after another..." 

"Ah, M. Enjolras, you're there?" Azelma said, opening the door slightly.

"Will you excuse me?" Enjolras said, getting up to leave.

Azelma stood her ground. "Monsieur, I'm not here to congratulate you. I just want to ask you...for my sister's sake."

Enjolras considered her with a steely gaze. "Ask me about what?"

"Is it true you and my sister are engaged?" Azelma asked. 

"Unfortunately," Enjolras said, keeping his tone level.

Azelma bit her lip. "Dieu, this is awful," she said wryly. An uneasy silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of the bells tolling from the nearby convent.

After a while, Courfeyrac cleared his throat. "Are we just going to stand here?" he asked his friends.

"I was settling in when you both turned up," Enjolras said.

"We can deal with that later. For now, the afternoon weather is fine, and there is no one trailing us. Perhaps we can visit Joly's flat?" Combeferre suggested.

Courfeyrac nodded gleefully while Enjolras and Azelma only shrugged. Combeferre calmly picked up his hat and put it on. "Shall we?" he asked.

They hadn't even gone a few steps from the door before Azelma suddenly paused. "Say, I know those two women," she said, pointing to some passers-by.

The men turned to see Cosette and Fantine walking up the street, laden with all their personal possessions. Both women wore darned dresses and had hats covering their hair. 

Courfeyrac was the first to come forward. "May we help you, mademoiselle, madame?" he asked gallantly.

Fantine nodded gratefully. "Monsieur, would you know of anyone looking for servants in this area?"

Courfeyrac and Enjolras glanced at Combeferre. "Non, unfortunately."

Cosette looked at the men intently. "Are you Marius' friends?" she asked softly.

"Oui. Why?" Azelma chimed in. 

"Could you give him this letter?" Cosette asked, handing a carefully folded note to Courfeyrac.

"I suppose he won't leave the reply at the Rue des Filles du Calvaire?" Courfeyrac asked. "I do hope you aren't going to the nunnery, pretty mademoiselle."

Cosette blushed indignantly. "What would I do there, anyhow?" she asked.

Fantine shot Courfeyrac a look of pure annoyance. "Well, would you know of any situation?" she asked Combeferre and Enjolras more civilly. 

"Les Halles," Enjolras said. "You'll need a fiacre to get there, madame."

"I suppose," Fantine said.

Combeferre quickly went to hail a fiacre. "What about us?" Azelma asked Courfeyrac.

"We can walk," Courfeyrac shrugged. "We're not going the same way they are." 

A fiacre drew up and Cosette quickly got in, followed by Fantine. The men helped them put in their baggage. "Bonne chance, ladies," Courfeyrac said before Fantine whispered something to the driver and the fiacre went off down the street. 

Combeferre glanced at the note in Courfeyrac's hand. "Did Marius also plan on removing?"

"I hope so. I do not want to have to stop by his lodgings as of yesterday," Enjolras said with a shudder as they headed in the other direction from where Fantine and Cosette had gone.


	32. Pity Only Goes So Far

**Pity Only Goes So Far**

Though Courfeyrac had been prompt in delivering the letter, it would be a week before Marius could summon up the courage to visit Cosette at her newfound residence.

"_Something tells me I've been here before,"_ Marius told himself as he looked at the dingy building that Cosette had directed him to in her letter. He'd taken care to avoid the neighborhood of Les Halles especially after his disastrous arrest, but now he was in the area again.

The young lawyer noticed a small figure kicking stones in the street. "Gavroche?" Marius greeted incredulously. 

Little Gavroche looked up at him and grinned. "Well, salut, Monsieur. How are my comrades? Are you here for a posy?" 

Marius scratched his head. "I think Navet is still living with Joly. And non, I'm not here for a posy. Have you seen a girl? Her name is..."

"Oui, her name is Cosette?" 

"How did you know?"

"Ah, she lives right next to my patch. I can't get away from the old women; first my sisters, then her and her mother," Gavroche said, wrapping his long scarf around himself again.

Marius bent down to look Gavroche in the eye. "Where is she now?"

Gavroche pointed to a worn cafe down the street. "She's working now, so I don't know, she might prefer the plates to talk to, not you!" 

Marius' face burned as he reached into his pocket to give the boy a sou. "I heard you were living away from your family...do your sisters know where you are?"

"Oui. I saw Azelma two days ago," Gavroche said, pushing the coin away. "Such grand times I've been having,"

Marius absent-mindedly ruffled Gavroche's hair before continuing on his way to the shop. "_I can't say I agree with his parents, but his father saved mine..."_ he reminded himself as he ducked into the cafe.

The Cafe Depardieu, as the place was known, was really nothing more than a hole in the wall that widened out into a dark sort of chasm. Marius found himself being jostled as he made his way to a table. The faces of the people were not so discernible in the gloom; indeed, he had to peer closely to even get an idea if he was facing a man or a woman.

However, a lamp near the counter distinctly showed a man and a woman, deep in discussion over some tea. Despite the general confusion, Marius recognized the woman's blonde hair. He slipped through the crowd before realizing who the woman was talking to.

"_Isn't that the man who I saw in the prison, and in the sewers?"_ he wondered. Marius knew he'd heard that man's name somewhere, but now it escaped him. "_Perhaps I'll ask Eponine or M. Thenardier later..."_

Fantine looked as if she'd aged quite a few years in a week. Her face was ashen, and her eyes lacking some of their usual luster. "I know this gets us a few sous, but I don't want my Cosette to be here. She deserves so much better. She had a young man..." she told the man sitting with her.

"There are other situations," Valjean said gravely.

Fantine sighed. "Some students pointed out places for me; none of them wanted me or Cosette because...I wouldn't let her out of my sight. This was the only place that would have us both."

"I could ask some of my friends to inquire. They know who to talk to," Valjean offered. 

Fantine smiled brokenly. "You'd do that for me, Monsieur?"

Valjean paused, then nodded. "I had a sister in your situation years before."

"What happened to her?" Fantine asked.

Valjean fell silent and continued stirring his tea. By this time, Marius, who was sitting nearby, found himself leaning out too far in his seat. Inevitably, he fell crashing to the floor.

"Dieu! Be careful, Monsieur!' a voice said. Marius felt a familiar hand steadying him, and he looked up into a pair of blue eyes.

"Cosette," he whispered gratefully.

Cosette drew back, where the shadows hid her grimy attire. "Bonjour, Marius."

"Cosette, je suis desole. I wish I'd come out here earlier. I could have---" Marius beseeched.

She hid her face. "There's nothing you can do, Marius..."

Marius reached for her hand tenderly and drew her to him. "It does not matter, Cosette. What you do, what can it do to me? What does my grandfather care about we do?" 

Cosette sighed and stroked Marius' hair. "I missed you." 

"I know."

Suddenly, the door opened and some more figures joined the crowd. Fantine caught Cosette's gaze and nodded to Marius. "More patrons?" she mouthed.

Cosette glanced at the newcomers. "Non. Workingmen. And two students." 

Marius looked from Cosette, to Fantine, and to Valjean. "Is there something---"

"Marius, the gendarmes watch this place. Your friends sometimes come here, but not as often besides the other bistros," Fantine explained.

_"Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Jehan, what are you thinking?"_ Marius thought with despair as he sallied to join the newcomers. He went up beside Jehan and cleared his throat. The poet nearly jumped at the sound. 

"Easy now, Jehan, it's just a friend," Courfeyrac laughed as he and Marius locked gazes.

"What are you doing here?" Marius asked them.

"Preparing," Enjolras replied, looking up only to say this before going back to discussing something with a brawny man in a corner.

Marius crossed his arms. "This is getting to be dangerous." 

"Well, no epic was bereft of adventures," Jehan said, trying to sound philosophical.

"If you can call an adventure a run through a sewer," Marius muttered.

"Even Grantaire is laughing about it. He's back at his flat today, I hear," Courfeyrac said.

By this time, Cosette had gone up to stand beside Marius. "You can't stay long here," she said quietly, her eyes scanning the group.

"We won't be long. The night is still long," Courfeyrac said. "Are you coming with us, Marius?"

Marius swallowed. "I have some translations to finish---"

Cosette giggled. "Or do you mean, mon coeur, that you will finish them later, but you'll have dinner here?"

"I thought I told you to stay away from him," a voice interrupted.

Enjolras' eyes narrowed at the newcomer. "Well, bonjour, cherie," he said, sounding as disaffected as possible.

Eponine sat in the nearest vacant chair, but not after glaring at Cosette. She thrust a folded paper towards Enjolras. "There, I got it back. Are you happy now?" she said acrimoniously.


	33. Counterpoint In Misery

**Counterpoints In Misery**

Valjean felt a pit growing in his stomach as he watched the members of Les Amis, Marius, and Cosette look at the paper that Eponine had handed over. "_Is that the map she and M. Enjolras were talking about?"_ he wondered.

"Where did you get this?" Enjolras asked at last.

Eponine shot him a simpering look. "Would you care to know?"

"It is a matter of importance." Enjolras said coldly, his eyes narrowing at her.

"Oh, I had a friend pay off a clerk." Eponine said, folding her hands on the table. "It is amazing what a turn of a coat can do."

Enjolras' expression darkened. "I would have rather let the map be lost, than to resort to such means. Well, at any rate, things have changed in light of recent events. News has a way of altering itself."

Jehan and Courfeyrac exchanged looks. "We have some of the new leaflets with us," Jehan said. "Surreptitiously scrawled." 

"Where do you keep them anyway?" Marius asked in an undertone.

Jehan touched his hatband. "Trouser cuffs too."

Enjolras adjusted his coat. "We've wasted some time here. I'll go ahead, and I'll see you later."

"At the usual place?" Jehan asked, nodding as if understanding that he was to finish their business there.

"Oui. I'll go with you, Enjolras," Courfeyrac said as he dusted off his trousers.

Eponine put on her shawl. "I presume I shall have to leave too?"

"Do you want us to escort you out?" Enjolras asked her pointedly.

"Non," Eponine said, but her eye was on Marius.

Marius bit his lip. "I have things to attend to," he said uncomfortably. 

Eponine shrugged as she went to the door of the cafe. "Oh by the way, Enjolras, mon cher, don't forget to thank my friend if you see him. You've met before so I suppose you'll recognize each other," she called over her shoulder before heading out into the night.

"_A friend? Montparnasse, I suppose."_ Valjean thought. He knew that Eponine was afraid of nearly everyone in Patron-Minette, save for the young dandy.

Fantine had also been observing them quietly. "I heard that they're engaged," she said at last.

Valjean nodded, recalling how hard Gavroche had laughed when his sister had revealed the identity of her fiance. "It was arranged, I hear," he said.

"Some marriage that's going to be," Fantine added more bitterly. "She reminds me of someone I used to know."

"What about your daughter and her young man?" Valjean asked, gesturing to Marius and Cosette, who were now talking intently to each other. He smiled briefly as he watched Marius kiss Cosette's cheek.

Fantine's smile softened. "I'm glad he got her second letter. That's how he found us here. Well, I hope he won't desert her now." 

"He'll do what's right by her, and by you," Valjean said.

Fantine nodded, a fleeting look of bliss crossing her face. "I hope God won't abandon us."

"_Maybe He won't abandon you, but He's cast me aside long ago."_ Valjean mused. He felt strangely protective towards Fantine; she reminded him so much of his own sister, alone in the world with children. He also did feel the same way towards Cosette; she reminded him of his youngest niece.

"You're a very good man, Monsieur," Fantine said at last. "You take in children, you help out men in the sewers...you're almost a father to Gavroche, and I daresay, even to my Cosette."

In the half-light, Valjean reddened slightly. "They're children after all." 

"Not Cosette. She's sixteen, but so brave. And Marius too. I just wish life wasn't so hard on them. I'd do anything to keep them out of harm." Fantine said.

_"And that's what I fear about you, Fantine,"_ Valjean thought as he watched the woman comb out her hair. He watched Marius exchange a few words with his friends before they went out the door of the Cafe Depardieu.

"It's rather strange. Cosette and Marius have nothing but each other, and M. Enjolras and Mlle Thenardier have everything but I've never seen such a pair that hated each other so!" Fantine laughed.

_"Misery all the same,"_ Valjean thought as he fished in his pocket for coins to pay for his meal.


	34. An Encounter In the Dark

**An Encounter In the Dark**

As big as Paris was, it was not unusual for even good friends to go for a week without hearing from each other. Acquaintances and partners of convenience were likely to be in much less contact with each other. So Montparnasse was not the least bit worried when out of nowhere, a missive from Babet appeared right at his doorstep.

Now, on this cold December night, a week before Christmas, he found himself waiting alone in the neighborhood of Les Halles, as per Babet's instructions. Montparnasse rubbed his hands for warmth as he looked around the street for his victim. It was past midnight; in fact, most of the usual patrons of the various establishments in the area had already gone home to rest. Only one light burned in the window of the Cafe Depardieu; someone was closing up for the evening.

_"Still, even if there are no familiar faces about, I have to be careful,"_ he reminded himself. His skittish neighbor had moved out of Gorbeau House following the incident in the sewers, so no one would hear Montparnasse sneaking back in with whatever money he'd managed to take. Also, since the hour was late, chances were that the students who met in this area were already elsewhere in their escapades. 

"_And if I see Eponine's fiance here, it should not be too hard to put him out of the way..."_ Montparnasse thought grimly. The bitter jealousy in the back of his throat prevented him from saying Enjolras' name even to himself or to Eponine's face. 

"_Damn it all, I miss her..."_ he thought, his hand tightening around his knife. He imagined how he would react should he chance to bump into that student again. The thought made him shudder slightly as if he himself was disturbed by the direction it was going.

In his reverie, he almost did not see a flash of golden hair slip by. Quietly, Montparnasse raised his knife to hold it to his victim's throat. He grabbed his victim from behind, twisting one arm for good measure.

"Monsieur, let me go. I have nothing with me now," a woman whispered through clenched teeth.

Montparnasse almost let go of his victim in horror. "_Should have been that proprietor, not the maid!"_ he realized. Still, it was already too late.

"You will give it to me, madame," he began. "It would make things much easier for you."

"Run, Cosette!" the woman screamed. Montparnasse snarled and was about to press the knife into the maid's throat before a pair of hands grabbed him from the side and wrestled him to the ground. Fantine fell to the ground nearby, gasping from fright.

"Maman!" a girl shrieked, running to Fantine. Nearby, Montparnasse grabbed his knife, but found himself looking up at a man wearing a greatcoat.

"It is much too dangerous for a boy like you to be playing with this," Javert said as he relieved Montparnasse of his blade.

Montparnasse paled as he recognized Javert's voice. He had only time to look towards Fantine and Cosette before Javert yanked him to his feet and led him off towards a detachment waiting up the street.


	35. Two Sides Staring Down the Abyss

**Two Sides Staring Down the Abyss**

Valjean was a late sleeper, partly out of nature, and partly out of a forced vigilance gained from his years in the galleys. Long after he'd sent Gavroche to bed, he sat at the table in his room, writing.

Suddenly, three hurried knocks sounded on the door. "What is it?" Valjean asked, not looking up from his work.

"Monsieur, let us in. We've had a terrible fright!" Cosette begged from outside. Her voice was unusually high, which got Valjean worried.

Valjean got up and unlocked his door. "What happened?" he asked warily as he looked at the two shaken women. He almost stepped back as Fantine let out a sob and practically collapsed on him.

"Robbers at night," Fantine gasped almost insensibly as she clung to Valjean. 'We were on our way home when this man held a knife to my throat. Good thing an inspector came by and saw us. But that knife on my throat! I thought we were done for---" she rambled on as Valjean and Cosette half-carried her into the flat.

"Maman, we're safe now," Cosette said when Fantine finished her harangue and Valjean set down a glass of water on the nearest table.

"But all the same! I never knew that inspector in a greatcoat could help..." Fantine said after taking a gulp of water.

Valjean went white momentarily. "That man who attacked you...non, Cosette, you tell me...did you have a look at his face?" 

Cosette wrung her hands. "He was wearing black, and his face was pale. He had dark hair and a rose in his pocket." 

Valjean nodded, hoping that his anxiety would be masked. "I have an errand to see to right away. I'll bring you back to your flat first," he said, collecting his hat and coat.

Fantine kissed his hand. "You're too kind Monsieur!"

Valjean stiffened at the sudden gesture. "We have to go, Fantine," he said matter-of-factly as he opened the door.

0000

_at the Thenardiers' residence_

Eponine was vaguely aware of when Azelma got out of bed and slipped out of their room. Minutes later, out of curiosity, the young woman threw on a dressing gown and tiptoed down the hallway towards the staircase. She saw Azelma seated on the topmost step, listening with her hands on her knees.

"Who's down there?" Eponine mouthed.

'Papa and that man Valjean," Azelma said. "Montparnasse is in prison." 

"What?" Eponine shrieked before Azelma clapped a hand over her mouth.

"He tried to rob someone in Les Halles," Azelma explained before her sister got out of her grip. "Ponine, you knew it was bound to happen."

"Oh I told him to be careful! I told him all the time before!" Eponine hissed, clenching her fists with frustration.

"Before you saw how handsome that Monsieur Pontmercy was becoming," Azelma pointed out.

Eponine's cheeks burned with shame. "Parnasse is my friend, so that's why I care for him. I don't know what---"

"You act like he's more than that," Azelma said calmly. "And you do the same to Monsieur Pontmercy even though we all know _perfectly_ who he adores. And on top of that, you're engaged to Monsieur Enjolras, so when will you make up your mind?"

"Oh believe me, I would have had it differently," Eponine said, sinking against the hallway wall. "I've got to find a way to help him."

"Your fiance won't approve."

"What of Papa? He needs Montparnasse's help."

"You know Papa; he only does what's useful. Do you think he cared when Vroche ran off?" Azelma said.

Eponine swallowed hard. "You're right. I'll have to do this on my own then," she said, gathering her dressing gown more closely around her. Despite Azelma's attempt to hold her back, she went down the stairs just as Valjean was about to leave the house.

"Valjean! Valjean!" she called to him.

Valjean turned to look at her. "Mademoiselle Thenardier," he said cordially.

Eponine straightened up. "Tell me about Montparnasse. Tell me everything, so I can do what I can for him," she said quickly.

Valjean paused. 'Why?" he asked.

"It's a matter of personal importance." Eponine said curtly.

Valjean smiled pitifully. "He's at La Force. He's being held for what they called armed robbery."

Eponine's face fell. "I can't get him out so easily then," she murmured before fleeing upstairs.

Valjean stepped out into the night and walked on down the street, pretending to see nothing from his downcast eyes, but in truth, nothing escaped his gaze. He saw from afar then the burly man standing in his path.

"Come, we have things to maquiller," Claquesous said in a deliberately scratchy voice. 

"About time. The little fee is upset," Valjean said. "The daron won't do anything."

Claquesous thrust a poleax into Valjean's hands. "La Force. In an hour."


	36. The Advantages of Knowing Drama

**The Advantage of Knowing Drama**

Montparnasse deliberately let his feet drag as he was roughly ushered into a solitary cell. As the guards shoved him towards a wall, he let his body strike it with enough force to make him slump to the floor.

"There, that's a soft little bugger. Not much more than a kid," a warden sneered as he walked by. He practically spat on Montparnasse's curled up form on the dirty ground.

Montparnasse lay very still, though he was in no actual pain. _"That's where you're wrong,"_ he thought as he tried to kill the grin on his face. He opened his eyes only once, just to glance at his now torn coat.

_"I can't afford such damage,"_ he realized. He knew that being presentable was part of his job, and he was less likely to lure victims if his coat was shabby. _"And then again, I need to leave first. At least so far, what I've been learning from Babet and the opera seems to be giving me its due."_

It seemed like an eternity till the hallway was quiet enough for Montparnasse's liking. It was still dark and chilly; by his reckoning, it might have only been three in the morning. Still, that did not stop him from feeling some anxiety as he peered out of his cell.

Quietly, Montparnasse lifted his collar and felt for the sou he kept hidden in the folds. He expertly unscrewed the coin and extricated the little spring hidden inside the makeshift receptacle. Carefully, Montparnasse wore down the rusty metal bars that stood between him and the yard of La Force. The sound of the metal giving way seemed almost too loud in the darkness. He managed to make an aperture just large enough for him to crawl through.

Once outside, he realized he was in another predicament; he was some ten feet above the ground. "If I drop the wrong way," he muttered as he held on to the window. In the dimness, Montparnasse could make out a bale of hay lying to the right. His left hand let go of the sill first so that he dangled to the right. The young assassin took a deep breath before letting himself drop.

He landed on the hay with a thump, but more alarmingly, he heard something click in his right leg. "_Merde!"_ Montparnasse thought as he scooted to the wall. A dull pain was beginning to radiate from his knee as he pressed his back to the dirty stones.

He noticed a chink in the wall, and more importantly, footsteps outside. "We should have brought a _mome_," a familiar voice said. 

Montparnasse gingerly inserted a finger in the chink. "Brujon!" he muttered.

Footsteps retreated from the wall. 'Wait. That's you?" Valjean's voice asked.

"Oui. What have you got with you?" Montparnasse asked furtively.

"A rope. You remember how to climb?" Claquesous inquired. 

Montparnasse gritted his teeth. "I'm hurt. If I'm found out here, it's certain death."

"Go to the back yard, near the latrines," Claquesous instructed. "A few minutes."

Montparnasse grimaced as he followed his friends' bidding. As the stench grew stronger, it began to make him feel sick.; it positively had disease hanging about it He nearly gagged as he passed by the walls of the latrine, but he noticed a small gate.

"_For the horses,_" he realized. He could smell the prison's resident work animal from where he stood. 

"Out, out!" Brujon snapped. Montparnasse hurried over, but had to stop when the pain in his leg flared up again. In the end, he had to be pulled over the gate.

"What's happened to you?" Valjean asked as they hurried away.

"A long story," Montparnasse said, accepting a swig of cheap liquor from a flask that Brujon had with him. He grimaced as he swallowed. "More of this, and I'll tell you presently," he said, trying to hide his newfound limp.


	37. The Uproar

_to make up for a short update_

**The Uproar**

"That dandy! Well, at any rate, we shall know him by his torn coat." 

Despite this matter-of-fact statement, Javert was simmering with rage. _"Now there's a criminal loose who can prey on the public again,"_ he thought as he nursed a cup of bitter coffee. It was very early in the morning; right after going to the Prefecture upon hearing of Montparnasse's escape, Javert remembered to get some breakfast.

He put out his notes again and stared at the various names and connections he'd written down. "_Thenardier has something to do with this. Maybe even his daughters, but I can't be sure."_

He crossed out the names of Enjolras, Combeferre, Marius, Cosette, and Fantine. "_The women are innocent, and the men, for all their doctrine, disdain the likes of these criminals."_

The sun's light was shining more brightly now, and Javert had to shield his eyes as he worked. His coffee grew cold as he continued scrawling furtively on his pocketbook.

After narrowing down and eliminating the names of other underworld characters who were either in prison or clearly not involved, the inspector was only left with a few names. "Thenardier, Babet, Claquesous, Brujon..." he recited to himself. _"And none of them are likely to get involved in an emeute"_.

The names had almost become a chant in his mind; ever since he'd been asked to investigate Les Amis del'ABC, he'd been uncovering all their connections, but these connections led to an even more disturbing web that Javert had been keen to avoid.

But now, he had no time to ponder on that. Javert drank down the last of his coffee and handed a coin to the proprietress of the cafe.

"Where are you going, Monsieur Inspecteur?" the rotund woman asked merrily.

"To inquire about an old friend," Javert said, managing to smile. "_And if Valjean knows what's good for him, he had better be willing to give me a few answers."_


	38. Answers Fall Short

**Answers Fall Short**

Valjean had always been in the habit of locking the door of his flat, even if he was not hiding anything or anyone. Today though, with Gavroche still sleeping and Montparnasse injured, Valjean had taken the precaution of leaning a chair against a door while he went to get breakfast for all of them at the Cafe Depardieu.

"It's not the best place to put a seat, if you know what I mean," a voice said.

The old man slowly turned to face the inspector standing on the landing. "What do you want?" he asked. 

Javert folded his arms over his greatcoat. "I was just stopping for a little chat. How are your neighbors, those two women?" 

"They are well," Valjean said as he tried to walk past Javert. The police inspector stopped him however with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Listen very carefully, Valjean," Javert said coldly as his eyes narrowed. "You are aware of what happened last night to them?"

Valjean forced himself to nod. "They were attacked on the way home from the Cafe Depardieu. Fantine, the mother, mentioned that you came to their assistance."

"Oui, and the perpetrator of this deed is now free again on the streets of Paris."

"So what is it to me then?"

Javert looked around as if trying to ensure that what he would say next would be a secret. "The name 'Thenardier' is known to you. Perhaps you are aware of some of the circles he moves in?"

"All of them?" Valjean asked, swallowing hard despite his mouth going dry.

"Some of the more dangerous ones. It is a matter of public safety." 

"And I am, in this inquiry of yours..."

"You could begin by pointing me in the right direction. Do you know where Monsieur Thenardier can be found within the hour?" Javert asked. 

It now dawned on Valjean that he knew nothing of what M. Thenardier did by day. "Perhaps at his house. His wife and daughters would know his whereabouts if he is absent."

"What of his son?" Javert asked pointedly.

"Nothing." Valjean said. "The boy called for me on his own."

Javert nodded as he dusted off his hat before donning it again "Merci then, Valjean. We will meet again," he said before going down the stairs.

As the inspector's footsteps faded, Valjean leaned against the door to recover his composure. After this, he pulled the chair aside and unlocked the door again.

"Montparnasse?" he said as he opened the door, taking care that it did not creak at the hinges.

Montparnasse looked up from where he lay on a pallet. His injured leg was propped up on a book. "I heard you talking. Is he gone?"

"Oui. But that leg of yours..."

"Non, I'm fine. I'd give it a day." 

Valjean glanced at Montparnasse's knee, which had swollen to a grotesque bulge. "We need to see a doctor."

The younger man's eyes widened. "I can't go to the hospital. We'd be caught."

"Those medical students then," Valjean said. "Those republicans."

Montparnasse paused, as if considering the offer. "Try the area of Picpus." 

"Ah, you know one there?"

"The friend of Eponine's fiance."

Valjean sighed, noting the bitterness that tinged Montparnasse's voice. "Very well then. When Gavroche wakes up, tell him not to unlock that door till I come back," he ordered sternly before going outside again.


	39. Mothers Don't Always Know Best

**Mothers Don't Always Know Best**

In the meantime, at the Cafe Depardieu, Fantine entered the kitchen only to find Cosette peering back into the barroom.

"He's not coming yet, Cosette," the older woman said sympathetically.

Cosette nodded. "But I think he will," she said, trying to smile bravely. "Not even his friends'...plans...can keep him away!"

"I heard talk that they wanted to meet here today," Fantine said, giving her daughter a sly look.

"Maman!" Cosette exclaimed, blushing furiously as she began gathering up dishes to be served. "It wasn't Marius' idea."

"I know," Fantine said, picking up another serving tray. The two women stepped out into the crowded front room, which was relatively quiet save for the occasional harangues from table to table.

Cosette bit her lip as she steeled herself to approach a corner where two unshaven men sat with their feet on the table. The stench of alcohol made her blanch slightly as she set down the tray with their breakfast. 

"Well, well, un petit madeleine," one of the drunks leered.

"Ah, there's nothing better than a pretty face in the morning," the second hung-over man said as he reached out to grab Cosette by her waist.

The girl stepped back, nearly tripping over a stool. "Stay back, monsieur. It's too early for that," she said as she evaded another attempt.

"Why, the mademoiselle has a tongue! Perhaps it would be better---" the first man laughed as he stood up.

"Monsieurs, leave her alone!" Fantine said sternly, placing herself between Cosette and the men.

"And who might you be?" the second man asked.

"Her mother. Now sit down and stop looking at her that way," Fantine admonished. "Now what is it you want?"

"Maman, I'm fine, reallly," Cosette said, grabbing Fantine's shoulder.

Fantine turned to her daughter. "Go to the kitchen, Cosette. Other people need their breakfast."

"But Maman---"

"Now, Cosette."

Cosette, now rather aghast, backed away slowly. Fantine moved closer to the men's table and looked them in the eye. "Is there anything you need, Monsieurs?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly as one of the drunks put a hand on her apronstring.

"You can start by giving us some more coffee, madame," this man said in Fantine's ear. "And be quick with it."

_"I really need to get us both out of this place!"_ Fantine thought as she hurried back to the kitchen.

000000

Elsewhere in the market district, the day's work was beginning as vendors opened up their stalls and various people flocked to see the wares. In the general confusion, two well-dressed women walked closely together, as if having a good chat over their chores.

"Of all times for the maid to be sick! I shouldn't have to go to the market myself!" Mme. Thenardier grumbled as she fiddled with the cover of her basket. 

"And getting our boots dirty too," Eponine sighed as she kicked aside a loose stone. "When I have a house of my own, I shan't do a bit of work, I should hope."

"Now, now, make yourself useful, Eponine." Mme. Thenardier cautioned. "When you and Azelma were babies, I did everything for you both."

"Because we were still living in the country?" Eponine retorted.

"Why, won't you be?" Mme. Thenardier said, her grotesque mouth crooking upwards into a smile.

Eponine's smile fell. "Does that mean that when I get married next year, I have to move to Nice with my husband?" 

"If he's going back there. Usually, these young men do not go to Paris to stay.They study, drink and eat their fill, then leave."

_"But M. Enjolras doesn't study; he plans revolutions"_ Eponine noted. She adjusted her bonnet and looked at her mother. "I don't want to marry him," she said. "I don't love him."

"I know you don't, but what can you do? You might learn to like him; there's no actual reason why you can't be happy with him," Mme. Thenardier said with a shrug. "He's rich, charming, clever, and I daresay, quite a dashing young man."

"_Oui, and arrogant, too much of a dreamer, reckless, and he hates me. So why should I like him?"_ Eponine thought. "You talk about him as if he is a prince in one of those books you like to read." 

"Actually..." Mme. Thenardier began as a smile that was meant to be dreamy began to show on her ruddy face, "...you two remind me of a story..."

The young girl bit back a groan as she listened to her mother describe yet another atrociously written novel. "_I love her, but she can be so trying..."_

Mme. Thenardier on the other hand was completely oblivious to Eponine's mortification; now she was gesticulating wildly and smiling very widely. "At any rate, you should tell M. Enjolras that you do not care a bit for him, that you wish he'd just leave, but you'll see, he'll come running---"

"Can I help you, madame?" Combeferre's voice cut in.

Mme. Thenardier stopped and looked at Valjean. "Oui, and merci, M. Combeferre. But you seem to have friends with you---"

Eponine looked up and realized that Combeferre was standing with Valjean and Enjolras. "Ah, what brings you here?" she asked, fighting to remain composed.

"An errand," Enjolras replied. "Bonjour Madame Thenardier, Mademoiselle Thenardier." 

Color flooded Eponine's' face; for a moment, she was as red as her hair. She mockingly curtsied before him. "And what errand might that be?" she asked.

Mme. Thenardier glanced from her daughter, and then at the men. "I shall have to visit the milliner's for a while. M. Enjolras, M. Combeferre, Valjean, you do not mind having to watch my daughter for a while?" she said, hurrying off before Eponine could protest.

"_Ma mere, now I can't trust anyone..."_ Eponine thought despairingly as she followed Enjolras up towards Valjean's flat.


	40. Words Worse than Daggers

**Words Worse than Daggers**

Even though Valjean said he'd return soon, it felt like an eternity to Montparnasse as he sat up in bed, waiting for his benefactor.

Gavroche by this time had woken up, and was busy stuffing himself with the last of a loaf of bread. "Well, at least you can fix your coat before going out again," the boy said impishly all of a sudden.

"If that matters," Montparnasse grumbled. Suddenly, a single soft knock sounded on the door, followed by the creaking of the hinges.

"Parnasse!" Eponine greeted as she ran to the bed. "You're out! How did you do it?"

Montparnasse's face lit up with a smile. "A good story, cherie," he said. He shook his head as he noticed Valjean, Combeferre, and Enjolras enter the room. "But it cost me this," he added more loudly, pointing to his injured leg. 

Gavroche made a face. "He can balance a dish on it. We've tried."

"Vroche!" Eponine exclaimed reprovingly.

Combeferre helped Montparnasse roll up his trouser leg. "How did this happen?" the medical student asked.

"I fell," Montparnasse winced.

"Must have been from high up," Enjolras observed.

"What are you going to do with it?" Montparnasse asked warily as Combeferre began rummaging through his bag.

"We have to bring the swelling down, otherwise you cannot move your leg," Combeferre said grimly. "Have you got some cold water here?" he asked Valjean.

"There's some downstairs," the old man said as he took off his yellow coat and laid it on a chair. 

Eponine by this time had begun cutting up some cloth for bandages while Enjolras had gone downstairs with Gavroche to fetch some cold water. Valjean on the other hand emptied a small bag onto the table, laying out some fruit, bread, and a small box of biscuits. 

"That's luncheon?" Montparnasse winced as Combeferre continued probing his knee. He turned to Eponine. "Now what brings you here? Accompanying your fiance?"

"Maman is at the marketplace, and she did not want me to go about alone," the girl replied.

"It's not because..." Montparnasse said as he tentatively moved his hand towards hers. 

Eponine swatted his hand away. "We're only friends, Parnasse. That's just the way we're going to have to be. I'm engaged now. You have all your women..."

Montparnasse's eyes gleamed with anger, and a little hurt. "You know how to wound someone very greatly, Mademoiselle," he said.

Eponine smiled at him bitterly. "Je suis desole..." she murmured before the door opened again, and Gavroche and Enjolras brought in a half-full bucket of water. Both of them were drenched from knees down.

"An accident on the third step, I see," Valjean said, mirth tinging his voice. "Are you well, Montparnasse?"

It was evident that the young dandy had gone pale. "It aches only slightly," he said, smiling cryptically. Eponine drew back with a cursory nod as Combeferre began bandaging up Montparnasse's leg.

"Do you know where your mother went?" Enjolras asked her.

"The milliner's. Rue Saint-Denis, I think," Eponine said.

"Send her my regards, Monsieur, _Madame_," Gavroche said.

Eponine rolled her eyes. "I'll be on my way then...or are you going that way, M. Enjolras."

"Not for some time---" Enjolras said slowly. "But I can escort you there."

"I'll go," Valjean said. He glanced from Enjolras to Combeferre. "I presume you two have business to settle together, and since I am only in your way, I'll take care of the lady."

"Ah, gentlemen," Eponine said pertly as she glided out of the apartment with Valjean at her heels.

Montparnasse pointed towards the door. "She's all yours," he said coolly to Enjolras. Much to his surprise however, the law student only smiled bitterly.

"Things are not what they seem," Combeferre whistled.


	41. Joyeux Noel

**Joyeux Noel**

A few more weeks passed, and the only good development at this point int time was Montparnasse's recovery from his injury. In Paris, a current was quietly sweeping the people; the word _revolution_ was heard more and more from people's lips.

Marius was painfully aware of this as he stumbled into Cafe Depardieu one evening. He looked over his shoulder at the huddles of men and women, exchanging greetings or intense conversation amid the laughter filling the decrepit cafe. Marius seated himself as close to the stove as possible, if only to warm his cold hands.

"Joyeux Noel, mon coeur," Cosette said as she put her arms around him by way of greeting.

"Joyeux Noel, Cosette. How are you?" Marius said as he kissed her cheek.

Cosette smiled, though weariness was still evident on her face. "I'm fine, Marius. Well, what are you doing this Christmas Eve?"

"I was on my way to Midnight Mass, cherie," Marius said. 

Cosette's eyes lit up. "Oh good! Maman and I are just about to go; the proprietor is so religious that he wants us to close up this place till tomorrow morn," she laughed.

"Let me have the honor of accompanying you," Marius said.

Just then, Fantine swept into the room, wearing a newly repaired dress. "Ah, Marius! What brings you here?" she asked merrily. 

"Midnight Mass, not far from here," Marius explained. He offered Cosette his arm. "Are we to be alone?" 

Fantine shrugged. "M. Valjean said he's not likely to come..."

Marius raised an eyebrow. "That is strange."

"Well he is an odd one. But he's good. So God be with Him, if He isn't already," Fantine said emphatically as they left the cafe.

00000  
Inside cathedral of Notre Dame, Eponine helped Azelma adjust her shawl. "He isn't coming, Zelma. I don't think M. Courfeyrac goes to church," she said to her sister.

Azelma held up a finger to her lips. "Shh! He's there with some friends---well, just Messeurs Combeferre, Prouvaire, Bahorel, and Feuilly. I think the rest go to church elsewhere," she said, gesturing to a pew near the back of the nave.

Eponine craned her neck to take a look. "Oui," she giggled. "But nearer---" she added, gesturing to where Marius, Cosette, and Fantine were taking their seats.

Azelma shook her head. "Eponine, don't do that..."

"Why, I may be engaged, but I can look at him. Oh, he goes to church, that is interesting. Parnasse doesn't like it, and I don't know about M. Enjolras," Eponine said, putting a hand on her hip.

"Girls!" Mme. Thenardier said reprovingly. The two young women stopped their chatter and adopted more somber attitudes.

0000  
"I say, isn't that the Inspector over there?" Courfeyrac said, gesturing to a pew halfway down the nave. A man in a greatcoat knelt and crossed himself cursorily before taking his seat.

"Well, he won't recognize any of us, I hope." Jehan said quietly. "Though Bahorel, you might want to hold your tongue." 

"Ah, even in the house of God, there is a prohibition?" Bahorel asked testily before Feuilly elbowed him.

"Well, certainly none against beauty," Courfeyrac grinned as he exchanged a meaningful glance with Azelma, who'd now paid attention to him even if discreetly.

"Yet despite the formation of religion, some of the baseness remains." Combeferre observed wryly.

"I most object to that! Man is perfectible, even if he wasn't always born in a manger," Jehan pointed out. 

"Yes, but what defines perfectible?" Courfeyrac asked.

0000

As this conversation dissolved into an amiable yet animated debate, a last churchgoer walked only as far as the door of Notre Dame, before pausing with a heavy sigh.

Jean Valjean crossed himself and knelt down. "I am not worthy to enter here yet, am I?" he asked aloud as he stood up again. He put a hand on the wall, as if to let the chilly stone freeze him even further.

The warmth of the candles from the altar made Valjean want to draw nearer, but his feet seemed rooted to the ground. He stood stock still as the choir began to sing its joyous yet haunting song of Christmas, now so somber and bitter yet with a light shining all the same.

As the last strains of the music faded, Valjean turned on his heel and headed back for home, attempting to warm himself at every streetlamp, though his hands felt nothing anymore.


	42. As Pure as Snow

**As Pure as Snow**

Though Paris had been solemn on Christmas Eve, the city was filled with bustling gaiety on the last day of 1831.

Montparnasse, despite the slight stiffness in his right knee, ventured out of his hovel on this day, dressed in a new suit of clothes. Almost as soon as he'd made a sufficient recovery, he insisted on moving out of Les Halles and back into the Gorbeau tenement, on the pretense of finding peace and quiet away from Gavroche's chatter.

However, as the young assassin walked along the streets, he found his eyes drifting towards people walking together, arm in arm discussing events.

"_We were like that once, Eponine, but never again"_ he thought. He'd come to the conclusion that the girl had merely been using him as a tool to escape her loneliness. "_For some reason, no one wants her...so there, another added to the ranks of the miserable."_

Suddenly, he saw two small boys dart in and out of the bushes near the pond. These two youngsters were well dressed in new shirts and breeches, and they had scarves around their necks. Suddenly, they yelled as Gavroche and Navet leapt out from behind a bench and wrestled them to the ground in a heap of arms and legs.

"I've got you both, momes!" Navet laughed as he tickled the smallest boy mercilessly.

"Let me go, M'sieur!" the child screamed amid his laughter.

"Right, that's enough, Navet," Gavroche said. He turned to the second-smallest child. "Now it's your turn to play the monster."

The little boy nodded and covered his eyes. "Un, deux, trois..." he counted as Gavroche and Navet scampered away and climbed up a tree.

"Gavroche, I see you there!" another voice greeted. Montparnasse turned to see Cosette hurrying up the promenade. The serving girl stopped under the tree and looked up. "Come down from there, petit!" she cajoled.

"Go away, Mademoiselle!" Navet hissed.

"Come now, that's no way to talk to a lady," Marius said chidingly as he came up from behind Cosette and put a hand on her arm. Cosette nearly jumped at his touch, but as she turned to face him, she laughed before he kissed her lightly. In the meantime, Gavroche and Navet took the opportunity to come down from the tree and hide elsewhere. 

"Oh, you're being so awful, Marius! Sneaking up on me like that!" Cosette said as she straightened out Marius' collar. 

Marius smiled awkwardly. "I'd like to invite you and your mother to join me for dinner tonight, at the Musain." 

"Oh, Marius, you shouldn't..." Cosette said before Marius put his finger on her lips.

"I insist, cherie. You've been working so hard, my angel," he said before trailing off as a blush suffused his face.

Cosette kissed his cheek, making him blush even harder. "Oui then. At what time?" 

"Half past six," Marius said, recovering his composure.

From his seat, Montparnasse quietly listened to this and looked around the promenade. "_A busy place tonight, so the others will have to hear about this..."_ he thought. He made sure to double back around the promenade before quietly following Marius and Cosette out of the Luxembourg. He made sure to stay in the shadows, for fear that someone would see him.

Just as Marius and Cosette disappeared around a corner in Les Halles, Montparnasse made a detour that took him to an alley in the Rue Mondetour. There, Babet and Brujon stood, looking around anxiously. 

"Damn that Valjean! He's not going to come tonight," Babet cursed.

"Well, he's going soft. Perhaps the winter will drive it out soon," Brujon said cryptically.

Montparnasse discreetly went up to them. "The Latin Quartier, tonight?" he asked.

Babet shook his head. "Non, something even better to maquiller."

Montparnasse took the paper that was handed to him. "Where did you get this?"

"La Magnon! She used to work there, but now Mamselle Miss has done the job. Serving girls left, and poof, in enters the Englishwoman," Brujon grinned. "Useful girls, in many ways."

"Not as much as you think. Magnon's brats are running around the Luxembourg," Montparnasse said. "Well, does this place have a cab?"

"Non, but Mamselle Miss will let us in," Brujon said. "Look here, could you run up to old Thenardier's, and get one of the fees in as well? We need someone in the front rooms."

Montparnasse shook his head. "They're probably both at their appointments. And at any rate, I shouldn't be speaking to the older one."

"Or would you like to be the one to stay out front?" Babet asked.

"Non, let's get the old man himself. That should be interesting. Eponine's told me some things, and we know that the bourgeois in the house wants something, or rather someone," Montparnasse explained. He leaned in closer and murmured a few words. Babet and Brujon glanced at each other and then at Montparnasse incredulously.

"Smart boy. Been shadowing that lawyer, I see!" Brujon laughed. "So you know his connections, and what he's been doing, and who's been looking for him?"

"Basically," Montparnasse said, motioning for them to go. As the trio walked out of the alley, the snow began to fall, effectively covering their tracks.


	43. Dinner Arrangements

**Dinner Arrangements**

"_Of all awkward things..."_ Eponine thought as she feverishly ran from one end of the house to another. Despite the inclement weather, it seemed as if her family was still up to playing host to a whole crowd of people. In the front room, Azelma and her mother chatted with Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Jehan, Bossuet, and Enjolras. In the kitchen, however, her father was deep in discussion with Patron-Minette.

"You sent for me, mon pere?" she asked her father as she opened the kitchen door. 

"Oui, we need you to answer some things," Thenardier said. "But that all depends, fee, on what you know, about that Baron Pontmercy's situation."

"I know a good deal."

"Do you know where he lives, and what he's been doing?"

Eponine glanced to the front room. "He lives with his friends---well, he was supposed to be renting a place with M. Lesgle, but M. Courfeyrac's taken him in. 16 Rue de la Verrerie. He works translating books, and he comes by Les Halles often, and sometimes works with those Republicans," she recited, ticking off information on her fingers.

Babet whistled. "That's a good deal to remember about one young lawyer." 

"Ah oui. I'll have a hard time remembering it all," Thenardier laughed. "Perhaps, fee, you'd like to call on the Gillenormands for me tonight, as far as the front room, and tell the old man what he wants to know. He misses his grandson dearly, to cheer him up."

Eponine paused, as if considering this offer. She was all too-familiar with these frontroom chats, and their consequences. However, above all of this, she was aware as well of the consequences. "Non, Papa. I think I shan't tonight. I cannot do it," she said.

"And why not?" Brujon asked testily.

"_Because Marius won't approve if I tell his grandpere what he's been doing."_ Eponine thought indignantly. She bit her lip as she glanced towards the door. "I think I heard talk of Zelma and me being invited to dinner tonight," she said.

Montparnasse gave her a sideways glance. "With who?"

"M. Courfeyrac, and possibly some other young men." Eponine said. She dared to only drop one name; that of the man who she did not want, and was obviously not interested in her. 

However, Thenardier grinned at the other men. "She's warming up to that gentleman."

Eponine took the opportunity to flee the room and reenter the parlor. "Azelma! What are we doing later?" she asked breathlessly.

Azelma looked up. "Nothing, why?"

Eponine took a seat. "If the weather is better, can we go out for dinner, sil vous plait? Maman, I know you're tired, so you can rest. We'll be alright, you see," she said quickly.

"It's New Year's Eve, I don't see why not?" Bossuet said. "What do you say, mes amis?"

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Why the sudden enthusiasm, Mlle. Thenardier?" he asked Eponine.

Eponine turned to him and smiled. "You'll see, _cher_. Oh don't be disagreeable, I think it should be fun to not worry for a change." 

"You're stating the obvious," Combeferre said. "Well, if it is fine with everyone..."

"Not the Depardieu, I beg you." Courfeyrac said. "The food there---"

"The Musain then," Jehan suggested. 

"Well, no harm in old haunts...unless the gendarmes are still watching." Combeferre said. "We should find Grantaire. He usually knows the best places to go."

'And he'll insist on coming along?" Enjolras asked.

Eponine and Azelma exchanged a knowing look. "It shouldn't be so bad..." Eponine teased.

"Grantaire mentioned the Bon Vivant," Jehan said. "We can meet there, at seven. Or we can go directly there..."

Mme. Thenardier got up. "I'll tell the servants to get your dresses ready," she said to Eponine and Azelma. "I'm sure you'll all have a lovely time." 

Enjolras bit his lip as he watched the overblown woman leave the room. "Indeed." he muttered, noting the suddenly gleeful look on Eponine's face. Obviously, it was not because _he_ would be coming along.


	44. A Vantage Point

**A Vantage Point**

Jean Valjean could not quite know _everything_ there was to know about Paris, by virtue of the fact that he usually kept to himself, and in his usual haunts at that. After seeing off Cosette and Fantine in Les Halles before they met with Marius, Valjean found himself wandering in the neighborhood of the Temple.

"The Bon Vivant," he read aloud as he passed by a cafe. He stepped out of the way and under an awning just as a fiacre drew up.

"They say the wine here is good," he heard Azelma say merrily as she alighted from the fiacre.

"Oui, but it comes at a rather hefty price," Courfeyrac pointed out as he opened the door of the cafe. "After you," he said to Azelma as he bowed. 

"I'd rather enter on your arm, Monsieur," Azelma said.

Nearby, Eponine and Enjolras glanced at each other. "Would you be fine with it?" Eponine asked him coyly.

"I do not care for appearances," Enjolras replied, daring to meet her gaze.

"Enjolras, be a gentleman," Combeferre chided.

"I didn't say I wouldn't be," the younger man retorted. "Mademoiselle Thenardier?" he asked, offering his arm.

Eponine nodded. "There, that's better." 

Jehan and Bossuet stifled their laughter as they watched this interlude. "He's got just over half a year before..." Bossuet said.

"Don't remind him. But at least there's talk of things starting by April," Jehan said in an undertone as they entered the cafe.

Only then did Valjean dare to come out of his hiding place. "_Some tale this is going to be."_ he thought. He wrapped his coat more tightly around himself as he began walking away from the well-lit cafe, for fear that all the same, he would be recognized by the young men and women.

His path took him right by the Rue des Filles du Calvaire. As Valjean reached the sixth house, he could not help but stop under the lamp at the gate, just to warm his hands. He became aware, as he stood there, of what sounded like boisterous conversation from the front room. 

"See, that rogue! Living in that hovel all this time, then with those students---why, what foolishness has gotten into him? I'd go out right now and give him that thrashing he deserves. Marius, Marius, why must you be such a scapegrace to play the Republican?" an old man bellowed.

"Careful now, Monsieur. He probably has some grave reason---" another voice, that of a young man, said.

"I don't care for such grave reasons. You lancers always have grave reasons for going about, fo calling here, so forget all that. Ah, give me my coat there, Theodule. And stop standing around there, looking like a fool!"

"It's snowing---"

Valjean jumped back as the front door was thrown open to reveal the ramrod straight form of Luc-Esprit Gillenormand, who'd just managed to throw on his hat and his coat. Beside him was a tall lancer with a mustache. This young man was fervently trying to reason with the nonagenarian, who kept on waving him off. Behind Theodule, however, stood the slightly portly form of M. Thenardier.

M. Gillenormand turned to M. Thenardier. "Rue de la Verrerie, you said?" he asked.

"Oui, and I am glad to have been at your service, gracious Monsieur," M. Thenardier said, bowing very low.

"We shall meet again soon. Ah, you know much---" M. Gillenormand said as a carriage drew up to the door. He got in and nodded to the two men still standing in the doorway before the carriage drove off. On the way out, the carriage wheels splashed in the mud, soaking Valjean, who stood nearby.

M. Thenardier raced out of the gate shortly after and his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Valjean. "Only now you come?"

"I was earning my own bread. It's not a good season, however," Valjean said cordially.

M. Thenardier glanced back to the house. "They should be coming out now. I wonder though, if I'd sent my fees to do this, if they would have done much better. Perhaps that lancer---"

Valjean sighed resignedly. "_That lancer would have an interest in one of them, but then much trouble would arise from that situation."_ he thought. He wisely chose not to mention where exactly the Thenardier girls were having their supper. "You sent Montparnasse there?"

"His leg is better, is it not? And any way, they have help"

"It will take some time."

Just then, the gate opened, and a tall, wiry Englishwoman stood there. "Now don't call me Mamselle Miss. They know me here as Nicolette" she said as Montparnasse raced out, followed by Babet and Brujon.

"There, merci, Nicolette," Brujon said, kissing the woman's cheek. "If you see Magnon, send her my regards, and Babet's."

"Oh how now, Montparnasse, no grisette to mention?" Mamselle Miss said with a pout.

Montparnasse shook his head. "Not at this point, I am sad to say," he said before joining his comrades in the street.

M. Thenardier motioned to the pouches in their hands. "How much did you get?"

"Half of everything, and a few things from upstairs," Brujon muttered. "We have to sell these quick--"

M. Thenardier's face reddened. "Sell? On New Year's Eve? Are you mad?"

"Why, I know a few fools who are willing to buy---" Babet said. "There's a cafe down there, surely it wouldn't take long to come as a peddler..."

Valjean cleared his throat. "I suggest you do not go that way. There are gendarmes around there," he said. "I barely escaped."

"You were never a good liar, Valjean." M. Thenardier scowled.

Valjean paused, trying to figure out his next words. He knew that he had little time to run to the Latin Quartier to warn Cosette, Fantine, and Marius about M. Gillenormand, but he was not about to allow mayhem to occur elsewhere, if he could help it. "There are people there who will recognize you. You are after all, known in these parts," he said.

"Well, I'm sending in Montparnasse and Babet." Brujon said.

"_An even worse act,"_ Valjean thought, fighting the urge to wince. "Montparnasse will be recognized there as well."

"Fine then, if you keep on insisting! You've gone odd as of late," Brujon snapped. "Well, you'll have no part in this," he said as he put on a cloak and drew its hood up. "A bien tot." 

Valjean felt a pit grow in his stomach as he watched them go. "God have mercy on us," he muttered before walking the other way, towards the Latin Quartier.


	45. Disaster Averted, Disaster Compounded

**Disaster Averted, Disaster Compounded**

"M. Combeferre, could you explain it again? I don't quite understand what you mean with that part of politics."

While Combeferre's jaw dropped and Azelma only blushed, everyone else at the table fought to keep straight faces. Enjolras had to stop himself from staring at the girl in disbelief. "_Surely she cannot be that feeble-minded. She's probably feigning ignorance. if we have to explain 1789 to her three times in one sitting,"_ he thought.

"Actually, I think such a concept is better explained by practice," Combeferre said, hoping not to embarrass the young woman.

"Enough talk about politics. It's somewhat injurious to the health as it is," Courfeyrac laughed, waving his hand as if to shoo away flies.

"Our father is a Bonapartist," Eponine chimed in as she put down her soup spoon. "He talks about the Emperor a good deal."

"So we've noticed," Enjolras said. "That painting on your wall for instance, the one of Waterloo."

"Oui. Marius' father fought there too, under the Emperor. Well, he was quite majestic, don't you think?" Eponine said.

"I prefer the least of the Republic than to any great victory by Buonaparte," Enjolras replied, looking her in the face.

Eponine looked down, coloring slightly. Bossuet chuckled as he noticed this. "At least, Enjolras, you two won't be arguing about it on a domestic level---" he began before Combeferre elbowed him.

Suddenly, Azelma looked up. "I say, there's a peddler here, at this hour?" 

"Selling some lovely wares, no doubt," Eponine said. "Of all times not to have much in my purse." 

Enjolras by this time had noticed the newcomer to the cafe. This wiry man was wrapped in a tattered cloak, and carrying a basket. "_That manner, that very walk is all too familiar..."_

Courfeyrac waved to the peddler. "Say, what are you selling there?"

The peddler looked up at the group, but instead of coming forward, he shrunk back. "My apologies," he muttered before stealing out. As he stepped out, a rose fell from his pocket.

Azelma rushed over to pick up the flower. "Dieu, Eponine, he's followed us!" she laughed.

Eponine put a hand to her mouth. "Montparnasse? Oh no wonder why he was such in a hurry...but what is he doing in this neighborhood?" 

Enjolras and Combeferre by this time had gone to the window to look out at the street. "I see your father out there," Combeferre said. "Perhaps we should invite him in?" 

"Non!" the Thenardier girls exclaimed in unison. 

"And why?" Jehan asked confusedly.

"Because I'm having such fun here," Azelma said. "It's horrid of him to think we're up to mischief...but say, Eponine, why are you so frightened?"

"Because he's not supposed to know where I am!" Eponine said furtively in an undertone.

Just then, one of the serving maids came up, with a tray full of plates of boiled chicken. "Your next course, Monsieur Courfeyrac?" she said, addressing the young man nearest her.

"Ah oui," Courfeyrac said. "Before we look silly, let us finish our dinner. The evening still has room for more interesting escapades, I'm sure."

As the rest of the group settled back down for their meal, Enjolras could not help but give Eponine a suspicious glance. "_There is some mischief afoot."_ he realized. He wondered if it had anything to do with the pamphlets he kept in his waistcoat. As a precaution, he set his wineglass aside, determined for that evening only to observe and remember. 

00000

Hours later, in the earliest hours of the New Year, a fiacre stopped outside a tenement in Les Halles. Marius stepped out first to help out Fantine, then Cosette. "Did you enjoy your evening?" he asked them.

"Oui, Marius," Cosette said. "Will we see you in the afternoon?"

"I'll try to come by," Marius said, kissing her hand.

Fantine nodded. "Merci, Monsieur. You are a terribly good boy, after all this time."

"The honor was mine, Madame, to have been in your company," Marius said. "A bien tot, and Happy New Year."

"And you too!" Cosette said before turning to go upstairs. Halfway up, she stopped to blow him a kiss. 

Marius smiled before leaving on foot to return to the Rue de la Verrerie. Were the hour not so late, he might have shouted for joy. He ran half of the way, ecstatic with bliss, and for the other half, he walked, enthralled by the sheer beauty of the evening.

In his extreme delirium, he almost did not notice the man waiting for him at the tenement door. "Marius Pontmercy?" the stranger greeted, stepping out of the shadows.

"Oui, and who are you?" Marius asked, taken aback with surprise.

"A friend. Don't go up there, not into your house."

"And why not?"

"Not if you value your friendship, or even knowing Mlle. Cosette," the stranger said, urgency tinging his voice.

Marius straightened up. "I don't know who you are, Monsieur, but you have no right to bar me from entering my lodging," he said crossly before entering the tenement.

He was not surprised to find the door to Courfeyrac's room unlocked, but finding it partially open made him feel queasy. "Bonjour? Anyone there?" he called.

"Now what are you doing out there, Marius, you little rogue?" a loud voice replied. Before the young lawyer could flee, the door had opened, revealing the livid face of Luc-Esprit Gillenormand.


	46. A Bitter Start

_A/N: Thanks guys. Sorry for not updating yesterday...actually, updates will be a little less regular, since I've started university already. Still, I will see this tale to its conclusion._

**A Bitter Start**

Marius willed himself not to back away. "May I help you, Monsieur?" he asked coldly.

M. Gillenormand opened the door wider. "Is that any way to greet your father, after you haven't seen him for four years?"

"What are you doing here? How did you find this address?" Marius asked.

"A friend of yours." M. Gillenormand answered curtly as he dragged Marius into the flat. "Now you explain to me, Monsieur Le Baron, why are you living here? What happened to the sixty pistoles I sent you, and your job? You are a lawyer, are you not?"

"I am," Marius said sheepishly, finding himself shoved into a chair.

"Haven't you been making your fortune all this while?"

"Living does not come easy."

"And I heard talk that you have been dallying with a servant-girl...that Rosette, Cosette, whatever her name is?"

At the mention of Cosette, Marius' blood suddenly ran cold. "You turned her and her mother out of your house," he said. "It was me you should have punished, not them. They were only doing what I told them to do."

"And this has done nothing to cure your fancy? Why, there are other women more worth dallying with, not the girl who slaves over the stove. You young people have no taste." M. Gillenormand said disdainfully. "I forbid you to see her!" 

Marius' hands balled into fists at this insult to Cosette. "On what grounds?"

"Bah, you Republicans, you think that such things are free for all, you turn the petticoats into the napkins, and vice versa, putting all of France on its side!" 

Marius straightened up to look the old man in the eye. "I love her."

"Love her? You cannot be serious!" M. Gillenormand snapped. "And I expect, foolish child, you wanted to come up to me one of these days to ask for permission to marry her?"

These words were a blow to the young man. "_How does he know even that?"_ he thought briefly, knowing that his silence was telling. "I will, if she will have me," he said at last, bracing himself for the storm.

Much to Marius' surprise, M. Gillenormand burst out laughing heartily. "You're doing it all wrong, my boy! Why bother getting married, why go through all the trouble for such a petticoat? Listen, you're young, do as you please, you have my money and all the time you can ask for. Why go through the ceremonies, the incense and the mayor? You're young, you will forget, you have time for other women." 

Marius stared at his grandfather, trying to make sense of this harangue. "You will not give your permission?" he asked, trying to keep his tone level despite the despair that was beginning to break upon him. He knew of the desperation of Cosette and Fantine's situation, and he hoped to save them as best as he could, but now even that hope was growing dim.

"Never! Go ahead, ask her, and see if she accepts! You're dressed so shabbily, you hardly have a stitch to keep your shoes together. In your situation, you can afford a mistress, but to marry?" M. Gillenormand said scornfully.

At this, Marius stood up. "You may insult my situation, but to insult Cosette, that I cannot stand for," he said, leveling his gaze. "I must ask you to leave, Monsieur."

A knock sounded on the door. "Marius? I didn't know you had company," Courfeyrac's slightly slurred voice greeted.

"Now who is that?" M. Gillenormand asked.

"My friend," Marius said, going to open the door. Courfeyrac walked in and regarded M. Gillenormand with a sort of confusion in his eyes. "Good evening and a Happy New Year, Monsieur," he said amiably.

M. Gillenormand put on his hat with disgust evident on his face. On his way out, he stopped and looked at Marius again. "And a Happy New Year to you too," he said sardonically, though strangely, his eyes glimmered. As he shut the door, Courfeyrac turned around to see Marius collapsed in his chair, shoulders shaking.

"Now what's wrong, mon ami?" Courfeyrac asked.

Marius took a deep breath to collect himself. "Someone gave him this address. A-and he's forbidden me to see Cosette."

"Well, do see her, and let the consequences fall where they may. You do not live with him after all."

"Plainly, mon ami, I'm being watched, and not just by the police."

Courfeyrac sighed. "There, there, Marius. These old bourgeois always react too much, for the most trivial things," he said, putting an arm on his poor friend's shoulder. "As for who is watching you, well, now is not the time to tear up Paris looking for the culprit." 

Marius nodded resignedly. "I hope you're right," he murmured. He then noticed the redness in Courfeyrac's face, and what looked suspiciously like stains on his clothing. "Now, what's happened to you?"

Courfeyrac shook his head. "I'd best not tell you now."

"Why?"

"Are you supposed to be an attorney, or are you on the prosecution?" 

"Neither."

"I forget. I'll tell you at a more appropriate time, or if you insist, you can ask Enjolras and Combeferre to better explain it," Courfeyrac said, wincing slightly. "That is, if they'll tell you."

Marius shrugged, realizing that this probably sordid tale was definitely not going to be made known so easily. "I'd better get to sleep. Happy New Year, Courfeyrac."

"And to you too, Marius," Courfeyrac said. Marius did not even bother undressing to sleep, but he only lay down on his mattress and soon fell into a fitful slumber.

In the meantime, Courfeyrac began emptying his pockets, setting aside some coins, his watch, a few pamphlets and leaflets he'd promised to pass on in the morning, and his pocketbook. As he sorted out the general confusion, he found two folded notes there, both addressed to Marius.

"Now where did that come from?" Courfeyrac wondered. All the wine he'd consumed was making his memory foggy, but as he pondered, the faces of the givers became clear to him again.

"Then it's all the better that these wait till the morning," he said, placing the notes by Marius' mattress before blowing out the candle.


	47. Betrayal and Desperation

**Betrayal and Desperation**

"I told him, Fantine, but he would not heed me. I left a note for him though when I heard the old man shouting," Valjean said as he picked some dirt off his nails.

Fantine shook her head as she finished putting aside dishes. They were sitting in the Depardieu again, and Cosette was off at the market with Gavroche. Only a few other patrons were in the cafe. "He hasn't thanked you yet?"

"He doesn't know where I live, and I make sure to avoid him," Valjean said wryly.

Fantine rested her hands on the counter. "Marius hasn't come by often since the New Year. If ever he and Cosette meet, it's at the Luxembourg, away from some people's sight."

"Still, he cannot be so sure, even if it has been three weeks since that evening. What does Cosette think?" Valjean asked curiously.

Fantine smiled wanly. "Naturally, Cosette is worried for him. She does not want him to put himself at risk for her sake, but Marius..." she said despairingly as she adjusted her collar.

Valjean did a double-take. "Fantine, is that a bruise there?" he asked, pointing to a spot on the woman's neck.

Fantine's cheeks reddened as she covered up the livid mark. "It's nothing, Monsieur," she said quickly.

"Woman! Aren't you going to give us some soup?" a burly stevedore called from across the cafe.

"It is still being put to boil, Monsieur," Fantine replied as she went over to them. "In the meantime---"

The stevedore took her arm forcefully. "Come sit here."

"I have things to do."

"Not yesterday..."

"Monsieur, no. You have had enough already," Fantine said, tearing herself away from the man's grip before Valjean could get up to intervene. She quickly walked towards the kitchen, rubbing at where she'd been grabbed.

"Who is he?" Valjean asked suspiciously before the woman could open the door.

"It's not for you to know," Fantine said through gritted teeth. "Don't do anything to that man, and most of all, don't tell Cosette what we talked about, or what happened here."

Valjean looked at her keenly. "I promised I'd find a way to get you both out of here, but so far, no other situations..."

"It is fine, Monsieur, you need not worry about me. Not anymore. What's a little trouble for a roof over one's head? As long as Cosette is fine, and I can live, that should be enough," Fantine said, forcing a smile on her face.

"_If only it were that simple,"_ Valjean thought as he watched her go. He left a ten sou piece on the table before going out the door to fetch Cosette and Gavroche.

00000

Eponine crumpled up the note in her hand as she walked along the Luxembourg. "_You've really done it. He's never going to look at you now."_ she thought as she sat on a bench. She looked at the neat handwriting on the paper again and kissed it before tearing the note to shreds and tossing the pieces to the ground.

"_Oh how you hurt me, Marius, first by avoiding me for all this while, then by what you wrote. I didn't go to your grandfather's house because I knew you'd be angry. I didn't know my father would tell until it was too late,"_ she thought as she glanced towards the young man waiting under the trees. It was plain by the way he looked around and towards the gates that he had not been waiting for her; the giving of the note had been incidental.

Eponine drew her gloves over her hands as she looked towards the people passing along the promenade. She noticed two young men walking in her general direction, evidently discussing something. Her first instinct told her to flee, but for some strange reason, she was rooted to the spot.

"_It's not because of the way the light plays in his hair, Eponine,"_ she had to remind herself as she listened in.

Not very far off, Combeferre chuckled as he listened to his best friend's impassioned discourse. "Oui, but for all your talk about truth, you cannot expect people to always consider facts rationally, or even to deliver them appropriately. Take for example, what happened last New Year's Eve," he said at last.

Enjolras frowned at the recollection. "Good thing that we were both sober. With Courfeyrac being drunk enough to mention other grisettes in Mlle. Thenardier's hearing, there was sure to be some trouble afoot."

Combeferre sighed ruefully. "Another battle. Bossuet and Jehan are wagering that it will take another week for her to even _look_ at him."

Enjolras looked up at the sky briefly, as if thinking of something else, before looking gravely at his friend. "That being the least of his problems. With this revolution about to begin, there is no escaping the fact that amid the larger matters at hand, there are the little inconveniences to put out of the way at first."

"You did write to your parents to protest your engagement?"

"Oui, and they threatened all sorts of things, even to come here to 'talk some sense into me'. I considered leaving the country for some time, but no, not when the time is at hand and the need is great."

Combeferre nodded. "You ever consider the implications..."

"If the plans are laid rightly, it will all be ready after Easter. For sure, this revolution will make M.Thenardier think twice about this matter," Enjolras said, an odd smile spreading across his face. "But as it is, with more men and arms and other supplies still as mere promissory notes, it is likely that I will barely escape the guillotine."

"A poor metaphor, Enjolras." Combeferre chided as he glanced at his pocketwatch. "I was supposed to find Feuilly before going back to Picpus. You intended to go directly to Corinth, if I recall?"

"Oui. I'll see you in a while," Enjolras said, nodding to his friend before they parted ways. Enjolras continued walking, till suddenly, a pebble struck his shin. Though it did not hurt very much, he could not help but look around for who'd thrown the stone at him.

"Bonjour, Mlle. Thenardier," Enjolras said cordially, noticing at last the girl seated on the bench.

Eponine stood up. "Bonjour, Monsieur. Are you on your way to your classes?"

"Non, I just finished." he replied as Eponine glanced over to where Marius was now sitting with Cosette, her hand in his as they laughed over something.

"That's very well for you." she whispered.

"You wish to speak with them?" he asked Eponine.

Eponine shook her head. "What would it matter? He hates me. She has every reason to hate me. You'd think I'd be happy, now that his grandfather has forbidden him to see her. You think I'd run to tell the news, but I just won't because I'd rather see him happy than have him angry with me," she murmured as she reached for Enjolras' hand. "Tell me, Monsieur, am I really that terrible?"

Enjolras nearly stiffened at the sudden contact, but he politely drew his hand away. "What do you mean?"

Eponine blinked back her tears. "Is that why he hates me, or why you won't even look at me?"

Enjolras did not say anything as he motioned for her to sit down again. He sat beside her for a little while, both of them seeming to notice the scenes in front of them, yet both lost in their own thoughts as the wind continued to blow, bringing to them snatches of the conversations nearby. Yet they were silent, not daring to speak to each other for the same unspoken reasons.

"I think only you know the answer, Mademoiselle," he said at last. "I am in no position to judge you."

Eponine smiled at him bleakly. "Merci, cheri."

Enjolras nodded before standing up. "I have things to do. Au revoir, Mademoiselle," he said before walking away.

"Au revoir," Eponine repeated as she looked at her hands, and then at his retreating back. She shut her eyes and buried her face in her hands.

"_You said you wouldn't..."_ she chided herself, but it was far too late to repent.


	48. Gold Cast Into Dust

**Gold Cast Into Dust**

"_Fantine may insist all that she wants, but I know need when I see it,"_ Valjean reminded himself as he hurried back to Les Halles one evening. It had been nearly a fortnight since their talk in the Depardieu, and since then, Valjean had devoted some of his time to inquiring about other opportunities elsewhere in Paris. Now, he had a note clutched in his right hand; it contained a few lines and an address that would be Fantine and Cosette's first step towards deliverance.

It was the second of February, and a bitter wind was still blowing through the city. The passers-by in the market district rushed to get out of the chill, and not a few gawked at Valjean as he walked on the street, away from the lights of shop windows and streetlamps.

"Is he mad?" an old crone laughed before she closed the shutters of her window. Valjean did not hear her though as he turned the corner into the Rue Saint-Denis.

"_There is something going on in there,"_ Valjean realized as he noticed a small group of men turn the corner into the Rue de la Chanvrerie. He took a few steps closer to investigate, but drew back when he saw the familiar faces of Combeferre and Bossuet.

"_And he's talking to the rest of that dangerous lot,"_ the former convict realized. Clearly, there was a meeting about to start, as some of the principal members of Les Amis were in the crowd, talking to various men who, according to rumors, were part of the Courgarde and other groups sprouting up all over Paris. Nearby, Courfeyrac bade goodbye to a grisette, while Enjolras was berating an obviously drunk young man seated in a corner.

Valjean shook his head as he walked away, hoping that none of the young men would notice his presence. "_If I get dragged into their revolution, I cannot expect to make a living,"_ he realized disdainfully when he was a good distance away.

In his reverie however, Valjean almost missed the sound of a door slamming, followed by a woman's shriek.

"No, no, Monsieur! You don't have to do this!" Fantine begged as she tried to get to her feet.

"You promised you'd pay! I intend to have my due, one way or another," a man sneered as he pushed Fantine to the ground again. The voice, though much slurred by drink, was clearly that of the stevedore who'd been at the Depardieu. 

"I'll give your payment soon. Give me one more day!" Fantine pleaded, clutching the man's ankle.

"Enough of that! Either you will come with me, or shall I have to ask your daughter---"

"No! Leave her alone!"

Before the stevedore could strike Fantine again, he suddenly found his arm held fast by an iron grip. "Get away from her," Valjean said menacingly through gritted teeth.

The stevedore, who stood half a head above Valjean, tried to shake off the robber's hand. "Or what then?" he asked before he felt the cold steel of a knife suddenly resting against his throat. Instinctively, he stepped back. "And then again..."

"Take one more step back, then go. I do not want to see you near her or her daughter again," Valjean growled, shoving the stranger away. 

The stevedore cowered for a moment before suddenly spitting into Valjean's face. "You're lucky only for this evening. I'll be back soon to collect, mark my words," he laughed hollowly before walking out of the alley.

Valjean now turned to Fantine, who was now standing up, with her hair half-covering her face as she tried to hold back her sobs. "Fantine?" Valjean asked concernedly.

Fantine raised her head slightly. "Now you know. He's been helping me, I've been asking..." she murmured.

"I found a way to help you and Cosette," Valjean said. "There is a house down by the Rue de Reuilly, and the lady who lives there was looking for a governness for her children."

Fantine laughed bitterly. "I'm hardly meant for that. I'd love to get away from that awful place, but what respectable person would have me work for them? Or have you told them already what I've been about?"

"I told the lady you were capable, that you had a daughter who could help, that you knew what to do," Valjean said.

Fantine looked up. "And that's all?"

"Well, nobody has to know if you are ashamed about something," Valjean pointed out. "_And also, no one should find out through some means."_

Fantine nodded. "I do not know how to thank you, Monsieur Valjean." 

Valjean palmed her the note. "You will do your best. Go quickly," he said simply before disappearing into the night. Fantine quickly smoothed out her hair and her dress before running to a rain barrel. She scooped some water into her hands and washed her face quickly.

"I hope he is right," she murmured before setting off for the Rue de Reuilly.


	49. The Misplacing of a Pocketbook

**The Misplacing of a Pocketbook**

After failing to find Montparnasse around the area of Les Halles, Javert literally took his investigation elsewhere in Paris.

"_No use looking through empty barrels,"_ he thought grimly one evening later in February. The Inspector found himself standing by a walled house on the Rue Reuilly. It was eleven in the evening, yet strangely, there were still candles in the windows.

"_Where there weren't any before."_ he observed. Suddenly, he heard what sounded like gravel being kicked up.

"Oh quiet now, Marius. You don't want anyone coming out to see!" a girl giggled from within the garden.

"How are you now, Cosette?" Marius' voice, now very low, asked from somewhere in the street.

"Oh, Maman is happier, now that we're away from that horrid place. But how am I supposed to see you? I hate sitting by this wall just to listen to your voice. I'd love to see how you are, since I miss you that much," Cosette replied. 

"Are you coming to the Luxembourg tomorrow?"

"Of course, cheri."

Javert frowned as he noticed Marius' lanky form seated on a crate by the wall. It was evident that the young lawyer had his ear pressed to some chink in the bricks. "_Like Pyramus and Thisbe,"_ Javert thought scornfully as he walked away.

His steps took him to the corner of the Rue Reuilly, where all the streetlamps were broken. "_Gamins again, no doubt,"_ Javert inferred as he followed the sound of glass shattering.

He came upon two small boys on the sidewalk, pelting stones every which way. Suddenly, one of them stopped and waved to Javert. "Good evening, Monsieur Inspecteur!" he called cheerily.

"What are you boys doing out here at this hour?" Javert said, grabbing both boys by their ears. 

"Putting the stones to bed," Gavroche said, looking up at the Inspector.

Navet squeaked as he tried to get out of Javert's grip. "You won't take us down to the 'Fecture, M'sieur?"

"No, but I'm going to ask your friend to bring you home," Javert said. "You live in Les Halles, do you not?" he asked Gavroche.

"Ah what's it to you?" Gavroche said, getting out of Javert's grip. "Well, we can walk, we haven't gone lame. I'll get my comrade home, you'll see! Actually, he sometimes lives on the Rue Saint-Honore," he said, grabbing Navet by his tattered sleeve.

"No, that is not that simple," Javert said, waving to a fiacre. He put both boys in the carriage before climbing in himself. He looked in his pocketbook for an address. "Driver, 32 Rue du Cygne," he instructed. 

It was past midnight when they arrived in the neighborhood of Les Halles. Javert unceremoniously led Gavroche and Navet to the door of Valjean's tenement. He knocked on the door several times, but received no answer.

"Where is he?" he asked Gavroche.

The boy shrugged. "Off someplace. You'll have to search all Pantin for him!"

Javert went downstairs to the concierge's lodge and rung the small bell hung on the door. "What? At this hour?" the concierge said, opening the door slightly. "Inspector, you're here?"

"Ah, Madame, I have to ask you a favor. Your tenant is out, and his boy is running about with a friend. Could you watch them till he returns?" Javert said matter-of-factly.

The woman glared at him. "You watch that brat yourself. Or let him in, since the key is by the door," she said before shutting the door in his face.

Javert went back upstairs, and sure enough, he found Gavroche and Navet already holding the key. "Now you stay inside. If you go out again, and one of the other gendarmes catches you, you are not going to have it easy," he said sternly to the boys.

Navet looked up and nodded. "We will, M'sieur," he said before going into the flat with Gavroche and shutting the door amid repressed laughter.

Javert paid this no heed as he went downstairs again and back out into the street. He walked out of Les Halles, keeping watch for any goings-on. It was about three in the morning at last when he stopped to rest his feet.

The inspector thrust his hand into his greatcoat, where he normally kept his pocketbook. His fingers only brushed against his pen, and more cloth. "_Of all things..."_ he thought, slightly alarmed.

"_I probably dropped it in the fiacre,"_ he thought. It was not unusual for people to lose things in such a manner, and surely, if the gamins had taken it, he would have known.


	50. Telling Strokes

**Telling Strokes**

It was almost dawn when another footstep sounded in the tenement.

Jean Valjean put down his cudgel in a corner as quietly as he could. He wearily hung up his coat on a peg before taking off his shoes. He noticed in the half-light a figure curled up on the floor in blankets. Judging from the size, it could only be Gavroche.

"_Then who's that on his bed?"_ the former convict wondered. As he tiptoed closer to the bed, he caught sight of grubby long hair. "_Ah, Navet,"_ he thought before adjusting the boy's blanket. Navet was obviously better-fed since he'd seen him last, but his clothes were still ragged.

As Valjean stepped away, he trod on what seemed like a leather-bound book. "What is this?" he whispered, bending to pick up the small notebook that fit neatly in his coat pocket. He never owned anything like it.

"_Probably thought it was a wallet,"_ Valjean realized with a chuckle. He opened the first page to check for a name, and nearly dropped the volume when he found it at last in the upper right corner, spelled out with firm, decisive strokes in the blackest ink.

"_Javert? Why do they have his pocketbook?"_ he thought fearfully. He put down the notebook on the table as if it was a leaking vial of poison. Valjean continued to ready himself for bed, all the while trying not to look at the offending volume not a few feet away.

"_He probably has my name and other people written all over it,"_ he mused as he pulled up the covers to his torso. Unfortunately, despite all his attempts, Valjean found himself unable to sleep. He continued to toss and turn till the first rays of dawn began stretching over the flat's ceiling.

"_That man would, if he saw me, say that my conscience finally found its voice"_ Valjean thought ruefully as he got up and picked up the notebook again. He opened to the second page, which was dated only as far back as 1815.

"_No memory of me then..."_ he noted. Valjean continued to flip through the pages, till at last he got to the entries dated after the July Revolution.

The sun was already up by the time Valjean got to the very last pages. "Dieu, he knows everything, and yet he has no reason to come after me..." he muttered.

"_Not yet though..."_ a voice reminded him. Still, Valjean put on his coat and stowed the little notebook in the front pocket.

_"It should not take the whole morning to get to the Prefecture..."_


	51. Painful Awareness

**Painful Awareness**

Javert was nursing another cup of coffee without sugar when all of a sudden, a knock sounded on his door. "What is it?" 

"A man here to see you, sir," the lackey replied. "Has something of yours."

Javert sighed as he rubbed at his aching forehead. "Show him in."

He nearly spat out his coffee however, when the door opened. However, he managed to retain his composure as he put down his coffee cup and put his hands on the desk. "What's this about?" he asked. 

Jean Valjean reached into his coat and put the pocketbook on the tabletop. "I found this last night."

Javert picked up the pocketbook and opened it. His eyes narrowed as he recognized his own handwriting. "Where did you get this?" 

"In Les Halles. It was apparently misplaced," Valjean said.

"Indeed," Javert said. "Well, many thanks to you. If it had fallen into...the wrong hands...it would have been catastrophic for many."

"You notice everything," Valjean said cryptically.

"Only in the best interests of other people," Javert pointed out. "I'm surprised you came all this way at such an hour to return this." 

"What was I supposed to do with it otherwise?"

"I do not know; perhaps a man like you would have other uses for it." 

"Perhaps not," Valjean said with a sad smile. "I only do what I have to live."

Javert stirred at his now cooling coffee. "You'd better keep watch on yourself. And that boy of yours. The arm of the law is long."

"He's not my boy actually. I'm just caring for him."

"All the same."

Valjean nodded and began going to the door. "Have a good day then, Monsieur Inspecteur."

Javert folded his hands. "We'll meet again, Valjean," he said before the door closed. Carefully, he dusted off the cover of the book before stowing it into a drawer.

"_I have to find some way of keeping my notes, now that he knows..."_ he thought grimly as he drained the last of his coffee.

0000 

Once outside the Prefecture, Valjean hurried off to buy some bread for the morning meal. On the way there, someone tugged twice at his cuff.

"Ah how now, Brujon?" Valjean asked. 

Brujon looked around. "Something more to finish tonight."

Valjean wrinkled his nose. "You slept under Pantin again?"

"Got chased by a cab while robbing a guinal."

"Well, what is it then?" 

Brujon brought out a biscuit and broke it in half. "We're going to Picpus tonight."

"The convent?" 

"No, the flats there."

"You had a biscuit, and you broke it. Why?"

"Because, I just spoke to Montparnasse and he has news. That fee of Thenardier's was lying."

Valjean raised an eyebrow. "She's the one who told you that the place was a biscuit?"

Brujon nodded furiously. "That poulet is going soft."

Valjean took half of the biscuit and bit into it. "Well, I shan't be going tonight either. I have things to see to."

"Will you give us a share?" Brujon asked, his eyes gleaming.

Valjean shook his head. "Nothing to be shared tonight."

Brujon stamped his foot. "That's two out of five that you have decided not to help in. Afraid to rob the bourgeoisie now?"

Valjean did not answer but he continued walking. Brujon growled and grabbed hold of his shoulder. "Answer me, Valjean!"

"I have my reasons," Valjean said curtly. "One of them being Thenardier's mome. Someone has to do him a good turn; he's tried to maquiller something and now it's gone wrong."

Brujon shrugged. "Someone will take care of him anyhow."

Valjean shook his head. "There has to be a name to that someone," he said as he walked away.

Brujon watched him go off before shaking his head. He went to a pump nearby and took a drink before washing his hands. He frowned at the taste of the water. "Should have some wine to better it," he muttered.


	52. Wine and Life

**Wine and Life**

March brought the thaw, and dread news from England. Of course, a good many people scoffed at the news, declaring that the Seine was not the Thames, and that surely no poison so dread could come to France.

However bad the news was, that did not stop Grantaire from being careless about everything he ate and drank. Ever since the first rumors of cholera began spreading through Paris, the drunkard had taken even more to merriment, and consequently, the bottle.

The fifteenth of March was no exception. As early as six in the evening, Grantaire was already at the Musain, halfway through a bottle of wine.

"I thought you'd be a bit more sober, after yesterday?" Joly asked as he took a seat across from Grantaire.

"What about yesterday?" Grantaire asked.

"Richefu's."

"I did try to get some discussion, some passionate oration in, believe me." 

"Enjolras is not happy about it, from what I heard from Combeferre" Joly said, pouring himself some wine. "You do have something to report?"

Grantaire looked down. "Not yet. I'll go back there tomorrow."

"You should have gone back today," Joly said. "Even if to save face, Capital R."

At this, the man known as Capital R turned pink. "I would have, if not for the lady who fancied my Robespierre waistcoat."

Joly winced as he wiped his glasses. "What do you mean?"

"She fancied it off me..." 

Joly was about to say something to quiet the drunkard when all of a sudden, a knock sounded on the backroom door.

"Who is there?" Grantaire called.

"Is M. Combeferre or M. Joly there?" a high-pitched voice asked nervously.

Joly got up and opened the door. "How can I help you?" he asked the newcomer cordially.

"M. Joly, am I happy to see you!" Eponine said quickly. "It's a terrible emergency." 

"Good evening, Mademoiselle Thenardier. Why, what can I do for you?" Grantaire said with a lopsided grin.

Eponine nodded to Grantaire. "I'm not supposed to be here, but come quick. My Maman is very ill, and Papa won't let me go for a doctor." 

"And you suppose my services will suffice?" Joly asked cautiously.

Eponine looked him in the eye. "I wouldn't ask if I did not have confidence in you. M. Grantaire is alive, I see?"

"Ah, yes," Joly said, glancing back at the drunkard. "Capital R, tell whoever comes that I have an important errand, but I will be back as soon as I can." 

Grantaire raised a glass of wine. 'To your speed, Malade Imaginare,"

Joly followed Eponine out into the street. "Pray tell, what's happened to your mother?" he asked the girl quietly as he hailed a fiacre.

Eponine got in and waited for Joly to sit beside her. "She was fine this morning. Then she had a fever after luncheon out with friends, but now it's gotten much worse."

Joly swallowed hard. "Then there's no time to lose," he said, trying to hide the dread in his voice.

The Thenardier house was quiet when they arrived, save for a candle in the upper floors. As Joly and Eponine raced upstairs, they saw Azelma in the hallway.

"Why, where's everyone else?" Eponine asked her sister.

"The servants fled, and Papa is out, I do not know where," Azelma said. Her eyes were brimming with tears. "You're both too late."

"What?!" Eponine exclaimed, grabbing Azelma's shoulders.

Azelma looked towards the bedroom and began to sob. "If you'd come a little earlier," she told Joly, her voice cracking with anguish.

Joly crossed himself. "I wish I had," he said.

Eponine pushed past both of them and went to her mother's bedside. "Maman! Maman, Joly is here, he'll make you better," she said, moving to touch the woman's hand.

"Eponine..." Joly said, going to the doorway as Eponine recoiled from the bedside in horror. 

"She's turning cold," Eponine murmured as she leaned against the doorjamb.

"She did ask for you, oh Ponine, if..." Azelma said before the older girl collapsed in a fit of wailing.


	53. Crepe and Calico

**Crepe and Calico**

The next morning, Cosette rose early, even if just to finish her work early in order to have the afternoon for herself and Marius. As she walked out to fetch something from the market, she caught sight of another group of mourners returning from the cemetery. 

"_That's the fourth I've seen in the past three days,"_ she thought grimly as she crossed herself. The news of the cholera was spreading almost as fast as the disease itself. In fact, some of her neighbors had talked of fleeing Paris.

Cosette peered closely at the faces of the mourners talking in low voices. She recognized in the small group, two young girls wearing black dresses. "_Eponine and Azelma?"_ she wondered as she stepped forward. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the distinctively rotund form of M. Thenardier in the middle of the group.

One of the girls noticed Cosette and whispered something to her sister before drifting to the back of the group. "What are you staring at?" she asked Cosette crossly.

"Nothing. I saw you, guessed what happened, and I wanted to give my condolences," Cosette said, stepping forward.

Eponine lifted her veil, showing her red-rimmed eyes and her pale face. "So now you pity me?" she asked scornfully. "I do not want it, Cosette." 

The older girl sighed. "I don't pity you. I sometimes envied you a little in fact."

"Well, you shouldn't envy me," Eponine said with a harsh laugh. "Look at what's happened: my brother's run off, my mother's dead and my father doesn't care, my sister and I may as well be running things on our own, and I'm engaged to a man who does not even want me."

"And you think I'm any better off?"

"In some ways. You still have your mother."

"I never knew my real father," Cosette said wryly, smoothing down her calico apron. 

Eponine shrugged. "Maybe better that you didn't." 

Cosette scuffed her shoe slightly. "So...it all happened yesterday?"

Eponine nodded. "Too quickly for anyone to do anything. Well, I got Joly to come, but he was too late to help. At least he was considerate enough to help me arrange things while Azelma looked for our father. You'd think that considering how many friends my parents had that there'd be a lot of people here...I bet some people are laughing that this all had to happen to us. I don't know why you don't find it funny."

"There's nothing funny about people dying," Cosette said tentatively. It was plain that Eponine was no longer in her sound mind.

"True. Still, no one's here to help us out. I guess the most I can hope for is Marius talking to me...you standing there...maybe if Azelma and I are lucky, some of our friends..."

The serving girl winced. "So you're going home after this?"

"Back to the _house_ you mean," Eponine said bitterly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Ever since Gavroche left, it's not been home anymore."

Cosette fished a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to Eponine. "No, I don't want it," the younger girl said. "Don't tell anyone we talked," she added before running to catch up with her family at the corner of the street.

"_You're right. I cannot envy you,"_ Cosette thought as she continued on her own way. "_It's rather strange that this all had to happen, but does it have to happen to anyone?"_ she wondered.


	54. Of Propriety and Scandal

**Of Propriety and Scandal**

_"That's the third one this week,"_ Valjean winced as he heard the wailing from down the street. It was no surprise to him that the neighborhood of Les Halles had been among the first places to be plagued by the dreaded cholera. _"With all of us living so closely together, anyone can catch anything,"_ he thought as he glanced at the walls of his flat.

Gavroche, who'd been eating his breakfast, nonchalantly popped a bit of black bread in his mouth. "You think anyone actually listens to them?" he asked Valjean.

"Perhaps they'd rather not be heard," the former convict replied grimly.

Gavroche nodded thoughtfully. "Can I visit my sisters today?"

_"About time he got around to asking,"_ Valjean realized as he nodded by way of reply. It had been two days since Azelma had come by and informed the boy of his mother's demise. Since then, Gavroche seemed only slightly subdued by day, apparently unwilling to show his grief. However, that did not stop Valjean from noticing the occasional tear stains on the child's face.

The boy slid off his chair and put his hands in his pockets. "Can I go now?"

"Wait a minute," Valjean said, getting up. He put on his hat and coat before opening the door. "I have to visit too."

Gavroche made a face. "My father? You mean to see my father?" 

"Well, yes." Valjean said. "I have business to settle with him," he added as they headed out into the street. "_And after all, I have yet to give my condolences properly."_

They did not have to go far, however. As soon as they got close to the Depardieu, they caught sight of Montparnasse, sitting in the doorway.

Gavroche ran up to him. "Well, this place is hardly elegant. What brings you here?" he asked cheerily. 

Montparnasse pointed to the cafe. "Business. Talking about it, I mean."

Valjean peered inside. "M. Thenardier here?"

Montparnasse nodded resignedly. "M. Thenardier and all the alcohol he can carry. He's been into the stout again."

"Forgetting?" Valjean asked.

The dandy smiled cryptically. "If telling stories uproariously can be called forgetting."

"_For shame, it's nine in the morning, and he's already this inebriated?"_ Valjean mused as another burst of laughter reached his ears. While he had little patience with some dignified customs, he did have some reverence as far as the dead were concerned.

Just then, Gavroche tugged on his sleeve. "There's Ponine! And how now, she's not alone," he exclaimed, pointing to the street corner. 

Montparnasse clucked his tongue. "Clearly all manners have been thrown away. At least she's wearing black. She'll probably insist on it, even at her wedding."

Valjean turned to see not very far away, Eponine talking with Enjolras and Courfeyrac. "Surely, M. Thenardier wouldn't insist on still marrying off his daughter so soon---" he said.

Montparnasse sighed. "Clearly you know so little of the man, Valjean."

"Any reason why I should know more?"

"If only to know how to best him in a scheme."

Valjean smiled knowingly, glancing towards where Eponine had already bid goodbye to her companions. "He does not hold everything in his hand after all," he said to Montparnasse.

"Bonjour," Eponine greeted as she walked up to them. The somberness on her face however was fleetingly replaced by a smile when she caught sight of her brother. "And how goes it with you, Vroche?"

"Oh fine as ever, though I can't say the same for you," Gavroche grinned before Eponine ruffled his hair.

"You came here for?" Montparnasse asked.

Eponine rolled her eyes. "To fetch my father. He's been out since the evening, and he's needed at home. We have visitors."

"And what of the other gentlemen?" Montparnasse asked, his eyes growing dark.

"They were kind enough to see me here," Eponine said flippantly. "Actually, M. Courfeyrac was visiting my sister, and M. Enjolras came along, since they were going the same way," she said. "A matter of convenience, for all of us."

"And where are they going?" Valjean asked.

"Corinth. I do not understand what they'd want with that place," Eponine said. "Come with me, won't you?" she said before going in the Depardieu.

Valjean hung back as Eponine and Montparnasse went towards the table where M. Thenardier was drinking with Babet and some other men. Eponine said something to her father, who then shooed her away. She tried several more times, only to be ignored. 

"Mademoiselle, I can watch him," Valjean offered as Eponine shoved her way to the door.

Eponine shrugged. "Do what you will. I cannot bother with him anymore," she said before quitting the cafe.

As Valjean made his way to the table, someone tapped his shoulder. He turned and found himself looking into the nervous face of Jean Prouvaire.

"Can I help you?" he asked the poet.

Jehan nodded quickly. "A favor to ask of you, Monsieur. Could you meet me and my friends in an hour?" he asked, pushing a note into Valjean's hands before heading out of the cafe after Eponine.

Valjean quickly unfolded the paper and read it over twice. "_These young men must be joking,"_ he thought. "_But at least Corinth is not so far away, and it will be worth investigating,"_


	55. An Order, and a Favor

**An Order, and a Favor**

"_A good crowd here. This seems promising."_ Enjolras thought as he surveyed the bistro. Despite the uncertainty filling the city, there was still an undercurrent of activity among the people preparing for the emeute. Though the meeting was still hours from now, he knew that some of the men there were trying to recruit friends from all quarters. Corinth was not a bad place to begin after all.

"I gave the notes out," Jehan said as he appeared beside Enjolras.

"When?" the older student asked.

"Just now. That man Valjean who used to sit in the Depardieu might be coming. I piqued his curiosity," Jehan said with a grin.

"Good work, mon ami," Enjolras said gratefully. He nodded to Combeferre and Feuilly, who'd just entered the bistro. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small figure clad all in black from head to toe. He made his way through the crowd to approach this newcomer. "_Of all the people..."_

"Mlle, Thenardier, I advise you return home right away," he said sternly as he stood in front of the girl who had her hair up in a hat.

Eponine looked up at him. "I'm waiting for someone, a friend of ours, Marius Pontmercy."

"_A wonder if he even shows his face here,"_ the law student thought. "He has things to do." 

"I can wait. You meet here, do you not?" Eponine asked.

"There is much to be discussed here that is not fitting for you to hear," Enjolras pointed out.

Eponine drummed her fingers on the table beside her. "Why, I do not have to listen to all of this talk. What is this revolution to me anyway?" 

"It concerns all of us," Enjolras answered, dropping his voice. "But still, you should not be here. Do not even think of coming back. If this place gets searched again, you cannot hope to be treated so well."

Eponine stared at him. "Since when were you so concerned about me?"

"_What did I just say?"_ Enjolras realized. "That does not matter now. You have to leave before you are missed at home," he said firmly.

"Oh, an intrigue. Can you blame me for wanting to know in any case?"

"It's for your own good, Mlle. Thenardier."

Eponine put her hand on his arm. "And how would you know that?"

For a moment, Enjolras found himself caught speechless by her question. "Now is not the time for this," he said tersely as he helped her out of her chair and led her towards the door. As they walked, he noticed that a stray strand of hair had escaped Eponine's hat and was now on her cheek. He moved to lift it off her face, but Eponine's hand got there first. Their fingers met briefly, and the sensation was almost electric. Enjolras dropped his hand and averted his gaze.

"Will you be fine from here?" he asked her quickly as he opened the door for her.

She nodded. "Be careful," she mouthed before stepping out. Enjolras retreated back into the bistro, much to his friends' laughter.

"_A distraction. I do not need this, I do not want this,"_ he repeated to himself. Try as he may, he could not help but feel even a little concerned for the girl. "_But that is just because in a few months, she'll be my responsibility."_

Enjolras turned to see Jehan and Bahorel talking to Valjean, who was leaning stiffly against a post. "I see you got the missive?" Enjolras asked the elderly man.

Valjean's eyes narrowed at him. "Your friend asked a favor of me, but he did not say it was to take part in the meeting later."

Enjolras shook his head. "You are one of the people. We all are. We need men who are willing and able to fight for the future that this country deserves."

"You have rabble. I know them," Valjean scoffed. "Workers who get as drunk as that friend of yours, Grantaire."

"They have volunteered for this cause."

"I am not going to sacrifice my livelihood or my time for this, no matter how good you paint it, unless I can see what I can get."

Enjolras bit his lip. "There is everything to gain."

"Not so easily. I cannot hold it in my hand." Valjean pointed out. He pushed his way past Bahorel. "Long live your Republic, monsieurs," he muttered before drawing his hat down on his head. 

"Valjean..." Jehan said before his voice faltered. The former convict turned to look at him with cold eyes. 

"Perhaps...if you do not mean to stay..." Bahorel said more enthusiastically. "You could deliver a missive for us."

"What makes you think I will not go to the Prefecture instead?" Valjean asked testily.

"We trust you," Enjolras replied.

Valjean muttered something before holding out his hand. "Give them to me."

"The missives?" Bahorel asked confusedly.

"What else?" Valjean said. "People will need to decide, and I have a long way to walk."

Enjolras dug into his pocket for the letters, which were already sealed and addressed. "Many thanks to you, Citizen," he said. Just then, Gavroche ran up to them.

"What's this about?" Gavroche asked, eyes wide.

"An errand," Bahorel replied.

Gavroche looked at the notes in Valjean's hand. "I can bring some of those. Navet and I know our way through this city," he said.

"On the contrary, it might be too dangerous for you to be going about," Valjean said. "You are not to go to the Fauborg Saint-Antoine alone."

Gavroche's face fell. "I won't be a lawyer because of Rousseau," he hummed as he followed Valjean out of the door.

_"A descent so as to lose all sight of hope,"_ Enjolras thought as he watched the door close. He glanced at his pocketwatch, and found it was barely ten-thirty. He still had more than eight hours to pass before the meeting was due to be called to order.

"_Perhaps in better circumstances, he might have thought better._" he thought as he headed out to speak to some acquaintances he'd seen earlier in the day. "_Contrary to what Valjean thinks, we'll need every man on our side."_


	56. Indebted

**Indebted**

"Pontmercy, are you even planning to come?" Courfeyrac asked his roommate as they walked along a street. They'd met near Les Halles, then ended up conversing about nothing in particular till now.

Marius smiled sheepishly. "I was supposed to meet Cosette."

"You always see Cosette at three, and you never go out walking with her after six in the evening."

"True, but I thought---" 

Courfeyrac grinned at his roommate. "You thought of...what?"

Marius blushed furiously. "Staying out a little longer..."

"You're as red as a schoolgirl."

"And how would you know that?" 

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "I...ah, well, you know what I mean. You have to get some backbone, stop being so flustered when it comes to her. You stand up to your own grandfather, but when she's concerned, you're helpless."

"And then again, aren't we men all guilty of that?" Marius pointed out.

"True," Courfeyrac said as someone signed for him to draw closer. He glanced at the person and nodded. "M. Valjean, am I correct?"

The former convict handed a missive to him. "That's for Marius over there," he said before disappearing into an alley.

Marius snatched the letter from Courfeyrac. "It's from Enjolras," he said, recognizing the smooth handwriting.

_To Marius Pontmercy, ___

_The time has come for us to know our numbers. If you still desire to take part in this revolution, please go to the meeting at Corinth this evening, at the usual hour. The hour is urgent, and no indecision can be tolerated. ___

_Your friend, ___

_Antoine Enjolras_

Marius folded the note thoughtfully as they continued walking. "Courfeyrac, if you do not mind me asking...is there any particular person outside your family who'd miss you?"

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"It is just that...if the barricades fall...what will happen to Cosette?" 

"It is the risk we all take. Even Enjolras takes that risk."

"But he detests his fiancee, so it is easier for him!" Marius said. "At any rate, I have a few hours to decide..."

Courfeyrac nodded. "Suit yourself. I hope to see you later," he said before they parted ways at the street corner.

Marius' path took him near the Thenardiers' house. As his usual custom was, he knocked on the door to ask if they needed anything. Today however, the sound of music from a piano nearly drowned out his knocks. He had to knock five times before the door opened.

"Ah, Marius," Eponine said, curtsying when she saw him.

Marius nodded cordially to her. "Do you or anyone here need anything?"

Eponine shook her head. "Everything is well, manageable here," she said. "Oh you all ask. You're not the first one to ask today."

"So who was the first?"

"M. Courfeyrac and M. Enjolras. You aren't going to their meeting later, aren't you?"

"Perhaps I will," Marius said.

Eponine sighed. "It's so dangerous! I'm so scared for you. And for the rest of your friends. If something happened to M. Courfeyrac, Azelma would be at her wits' end."

"You're in no danger of that," Marius pointed out.

Eponine colored slightly. "You're my friends. I've known some of you since I was a little girl. If you died..."

"Let's not talk of that," Marius said.

Eponine looked him in the eye. "You promised you'd honor your debt to my family. So I must ask you something...when, if that revolution begins, I want you to live. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I cannot promise that. You know how these things are!"

"Just do what you can. For my sake. For my father's sake!"

Marius paused, as if considering her words. "I shall keep safe then."

Eponine shook his hand. "Then we are agreed?"

He gave her a cordial nod. "Adieu for now then. I have things to see to," he said with a bow before he went off down the street again, not even turning back to see Eponine waving at him before she returned to the house.


	57. Fulfill A Promise And to Break Another

**To Fulfill A Promise, One Must Break Another**

"_Never mind if they meet here. This is where I live after all," _

Valjean knew exactly where to sit so that he and his comrades were out of sight in the Rue de la Chanvrerie. From their hiding place right in a small nook under a house, they could see the comings and goings of the people in the bistro.

"The pickings seem good. No matter what Thenardier's fee says to us," Brujon said.

"That's only because her young man is in there," Montparnasse muttered.

"The question is…which, eh?" Babet said, elbowing Montparnasse.

Montparnasse's knife gleamed in the darkness. "One more word, Babet…"

"Come now, let's not go slitting each other's throats here," Brujon said. "Any ideas who we should look out for?"

Babet shrugged. "I spoke to the younger fee, Azelma. She said she and her sister can't be here to keep the shop front for us. Not a single woman attends these assemblies."

"Makes things even more difficult then," Brujon said. "Let's go in the back."

"I'll stay out here and watch," Valjean said gravely.

All eyes turned to him. "The reason why we asked you here was because you know them. You're keeping the front for us." Babet growled.

"No I am not." Valjean replied sternly. "Montparnasse can do the job just as well."

Montparnasse shook his head. "I'd go in there for some other reason. Not to listen to all that talk about liberte, egalite, and fraternite."

The older men exchanged knowing looks. "He goes in, there's likely to be some blood," Brujon said in an oracular voice. "Very well then, I'll keep the front. Valjean can sit here if he likes. The rest of you go in and take what you can, and quietly at that."

As Montparnasse, Babet, Claquesous, and Guelemer disappeared into the shadows, and Brujon ducked into Corinth, Valjean seated himself on a cask to keep an eye on the street. With a hat drawn down over his face, he was almost inconspicuous.

He heard the tell-tale sound of two sets of feet near the door of Corinth. One set of footsteps was strong and purposeful, the other a little more nervous, as if fleeing the place. Valjean dared to raise the brim of his hat to watch the scene about to unfold, and perhaps to prepare to warn the others in the alley.

"Going someplace, Pontmercy?" Enjolras asked as he stopped near the door of the bistro.

Marius, who'd been passing under a streetlamp, froze at the sound of his friend's voice. "Yes of course," the younger man said, turning to face Enjolras.

"You got my missive this morning?" Enjolras asked tersely.

"Of course, but that's hardly enough time to think, Enjolras." Marius said, looking the taller man in the eye. "I prefer to weigh my decisions."

"We do not have time, Pontmercy. The revolution can start any day. You pledged yourself to do all you could for this cause," the revolutionary said. "Now, does that pledge still hold?"

Marius bit his lip. "It does, but I too have another pledge to honor."

Enjolras' eyes narrowed. "Do you think that by being a coward, you can honor your father's memory and his ideals? When the hour has come, that is the time you shy away from what needs to be done?" he demanded sternly, his voice now cold and yet impassioned.

"It is not about that, Enjolras," Marius retorted. "It's about Cosette."

Enjolras crossed his arms. "How now then, when there are larger things at hand? You fought alongside us two years ago, and we need you again to defend what we fought for then."

Marius drew himself up to his full height. "I know. Do you think I am completely satisfied with what has been happening? Still I cannot simply put myself in the path of danger and risk leaving Cosette and her mother without aid or any recourse should the worst happen," he said firmly.

"You are not the only one who has to care for someone. We have our parents, true. Joly has Musichetta. Courfeyrac has well, whoever he has to care for. The other men in there have families, Pontmercy, and they know that the best way to secure their futures is to fight!" the older man pointed out.

Marius smiled wryly. "You talk as if you weren't engaged yourself."

"That is another matter," Enjolras retorted.

The attorney sighed and looked down momentarily. "I promised to do what was right by Cosette. And perhaps I may have dishonored some other promises, but this is one I have to keep," he said.

"So I take it that you will not be joining us then?"

"I'm sorry, mon ami."

Enjolras nodded before ducking into the door of Corinth. Marius stood alone in the street, his countenance now suddenly that of a man in deep thought. Out on the Rue Saint-Denis, carriages rumbled, and once, an omnibus as well.

Valjean took the opportunity to slip out of the shadows. "I'll be holding you to that promise, Marius," he said to the young man.

Marius nearly jumped at the sound of Valjean's voice, but he looked at the former convict steadily. "You heard? Well, what is it to you?" he asked.

A smile flitted across Valjean's worn face for a brief moment. "Simply that I promised almost the same thing myself," he said.


	58. The Bearers of News

**The Bearers of News**

The weeks passed in this uneasy state, exacerbated by the daily reports and rumors of the cholera. For some people, that April and May were the bleakest ever created, as different sorts of fever gripped all Paris: anxiety, cholera, measles, fighting, and revolutions in the making.

It was on a seemingly ordinary afternoon on the Rue Reuilly that Fantine, who'd been sitting in the garden, heard murmurs coming from the other side of the wall facing the street. The inquistive woman peered through a crack in the wall to see who was speaking.

"Monsieur, news you say?" she asked.

"Just came from around, Fantine. I heard that Lamarque is dead," a gruff voice replied.

Fantine straightened up. "M. Valjean, you are sure about that?" 

Jean Valjean glanced towards a beggar who was sauntering away. "So says that ragpicker," he muttered. "He said he came from the area of the Rue de Gres."

Fantine's hand flew to her mouth. "Best not tell Cosette, or she'll be worrying about Marius again. Oh, it's been frightful, M'sieur, with what we hear about this cholera and the revolution. I do wish people could be happy," she said nervously.

Valjean smiled cryptically. "There is no need to worry about Marius." 

"But his friends!"

"He's a sensible young man. I can vouch for that."

Fantine smiled with relief. "You really think so?"

Before Valjean could say anything to this, Cosette stepped out in the garden. "Ah there you are, Maman! And you too, M. Valjean," she greeted graciously.

"Cosette, are you finished with your chores?" Fantine asked absent-mindedly.

"Oh I am, Maman," Cosette replied. "I was going out to see Marius. We are to meet at the Luxembourg again."

Valjean and Fantine exchanged looks. "Please, go with her. I do not know what is to happen," Fantine said quickly to Valjean.

Cosette rolled her eyes. "Maman, it will all be fine!"

"No it won't," Valjean said sternly as he opened the gate. Cosette sighed and went out.

"What is it that you were talking about?" the girl asked them.

"Nothing, Cosette," Fantine said, feigning a smile.


	59. A Last Debacle

**A Last Debacle**

"Haven't you heard the news? Lamarque is dead," Azelma said as she sat down at the piano in the living room. 

Eponine looked up from her sewing. "Papa was just 'lamenting' it, talking about the good Bonapartist generals," she said.

Azelma drew the piano stool closer to her sister's seat. "They say at the funeral, that's where it will all begin," she added in a low voice.

"What? Who told you such things, petit?" Eponine asked in alarm.

"Oh I wasn't told. But I heard M. Courfeyrac talking to some other students. Vroche was there too. I asked him to come home, but he wouldn't," Azelma said, her eyes suddenly serious. "They talk of turning out to see how things are. Within the week." 

"Well, they will do as they will. We're women, and we can't do anything," Eponine said nonchalantly. "Besides, even if we could, would they listen?"

"M. Courfeyrac listens to me, but no, I cannot tell him not to go," Azelma said. "Oh don't you remember, two years ago, when there was a revolution, how scared we were but even Papa went out in the streets then!"

Eponine nodded grimly. "And now? Is it any different?"

Azelma shrugged. "I wasn't friends with M. Courfeyrac then. Aren't you afraid for Marius?" 

Eponine pushed the needle into the handkerchief she was hemming. She yelped as she pricked her finger. "I told him to be careful at the barricades," she said before sticking her finger in her mouth.

Azelma nodded. "What for M. Enjolras?" 

Eponine shook her head. "Should I be? He will do as he wants to, revolution or no revolution, marriage or no marriage." 

At the word 'marriage', Azelma's eyes brightened. "By the way, the seamstress said your wedding dress was ready. It is upstairs."

Eponine's brow furrowed. "I am not supposed to try to wear it. It does not bode well, so they say." 

"Just at least look at it, Ponine," Azelma begged. 

"Very well then, but just for a minute," the older girl said resignedly as they headed up to the room that they shared. The white dress hung in front of Eponine's closet, with its folds billowing in the slight draft caused by opening the door.

Eponine ran her hand over the lace sash of the dress. "It is too pretty. I doubt I shall want to wear it, or I might get it dirty!" she laughed.

"Ponine, you'll look wonderful in it," Azelma said, squeezing her sister's arm. "And I'm sure your husband---"

"Don't mention him anymore, Zelma," Eponine interrupted, picking up the dress and hanging it inside the closet.


	60. As Plain as Day

**As Plain as Day**

The fourth of June was a seemingly ordinary day, at least that was what most people wanted to believe.

Javert however was too astute to be lulled into a false sense of security. At about half-past ten in the morning, he found himself being ushered into the study of M. Thenardier.

M. Thenardier when he was not 'at his business' was by all apperances, a fop on the surface. He had on an ostentatiously embroidered waistcoat that did not flatter his middle. He had tried to keep up with the bourgeoisie fashion of pantaloons, but these however looked out of place with the rest of his outfit. 

"Bonjour Monsieur Inspecteur," M. Thenardier said, bowing low. "How may I assist you?"

"This is just a visit of inquiry, M. Thenardier," Javert said. "I will not be long, I will only ask a few questions."

M. Thenardier eyed the inspector keenly. "About what?" 

Javert knocked on the wall of the study. "These are thick. You do not hear the comings and goings of people here?" 

'Which is why I have a butler.'

"Which is why you did not hear your daughters slip out into the garden?"

M. Thenardier laughed. "They are smart girls, and they will do as they will."

"Do you have company here often? Do your daughters receive guests here, or are they always calling on people?" Javert asked.

M. Thenardier looked up with an expression that was meant to be thoughtful. "A bit of both. My daughters love to visit their friends. A few young gentlemen come here too, mainly the sons of my friends in the business..." 

"_One of your businesses, you mean,"_ Javert noted to himself as he adjusted a button on his greatcoat. "Students, I presume?"

"Some of them are," M. Thenardier replied. "Though I doubt they put their studies to good use." 

"Are these students your daughter's' only friends?" 

M. Thenardier paused and looked around briefly, as if avoiding Javert's steely gaze. "Why do you ask? I only pick the best company for my girls. It's to preserve their morals. I want them to mix only with ladies of breeding and proper gentlemen, not those who style themselves as dandies."

"_Clearly, you have not been very vigilant,"_ Javert thought with a sigh. "I have reason to believe, M. Thenardier, that your daughters may have had dealings with certain dangerous men."

"Oh, they're nothing but young cavaliers who get in the occasional drink, and the brawls. Of course, they were all involved in that revolution two years ago, but what of it?" M. Thenardier scoffed, crossing his arms.

Javert raised an eyebrow. "A simple inquiry, that is all," he said, nodding slightly. "Thank you for your time, M. Thenardier," he said before putting on his hat and leaving the study and M. Thenardier standing there, looking confused. 

As soon as he was out in the street again, Javert pulled a few cards out of his pocket and crossed out a few words. "Evasive indeed. I shall have to move closer to find out," he muttered as he walked away.

He noticed out of the corner of his eye what looked like a young girl stealing away from the Thenardiers' house. He turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of Azelma as she disappeared around a corner with none other than Courfeyrac.

"_The best of company, so he thinks,"_ the inspector mused as he continued on his way. He still had orders at the Prefecture to see to.


	61. An Open Gate Poses a Dilemma

**An Open Gate Poses a Dilemma**

"Gavroche, you can remove your shoes if you like," Cosette said as she continued to sweep the garden path. 

Gavroche flicked a pebble over the grass. "Who are you waiting for, mademoiselle?" he asked.

"No one," Cosette said, biting her lip. Still, she could not help but glance at the garden wall. "But perhaps this afternoon, I can go out." 

"It's Lamarque's funeral today."

"I know that, Gavroche. But Marius does not have to be there, does he?" 

Gavroche sat up. "I don't want to stay here. There's nothing to do."

Cosette put aside her broom as Gavroche took off his shoes. "Well, M. Valjean agrees with my maman. Better to just stay off the streets, just for today, while M. Valjean sees to business."

"You could invite M. Marius in here. The lamps are bright," Gavroche grinned impishly.

Color flooded Cosette's cheeks at the suggestion. "I'm not supposed to, or that would only cause trouble," she retorted.

"The real trouble is outside."

"Gavroche, stop talking of it. My maman might hear, and I don't want her to be frightened." 

The boy shrugged as he got up and began humming a ditty to himself. Cosette watched him run around the garden, and she shook her head. "_If only he knew...if only I knew..."_ she mused, noticing that her shoe seemed loose.

She knew that Marius spared her the details of the uprising that his friends were about to be thrown in, just as much as she knew that Gavroche did not know everything about the doings of Les Amis del'ABC and their other acquaintances. "_Is it really so confusing and so terrible that Marius cannot let me know?"_

As Cosette bent down to retie her bootlace, she did not hear the creaking hinges, or Navet's shout from outside, hailing his friends in the street. When she straightened up, she found herself utterly alone in the garden. 

"Gavroche? Are you hiding someplace?" she called. She went to the gate, and realized that it had been opened; the bolt was out of place.

Panic seized Cosette as she looked around the garden. She searched under the bushes, and even went as far as to peer in the windows of the house. "_He can't have gone out! What shall I do if he did go out? What will I tell Maman?"_ she thought hurriedly as she raced back to the gate. She knew every moment was putting Gavroche into more danger; what if the rumors were true and an emeute was about to break out? What if she was too late to avert disaster on the child's end.

Swiftly, she drew the bolt back and opened the gate. Outside, the street was quiet; it seemed as if all the neighbors were still asleep, or worse, elsewhere. Cosette looked around her, and after a few moments, ran down the Rue Reuilly.

"_Dieu, please do not let him go too far..."_ she prayed as she continued her search.


	62. Anxiety's Driving Force

**Anxiety's Driving Force**

Elsewhere, on the Rue de Gres, this scene transpired.

Two young people were seen walking furtively up the street, looking around as if searching for some absent friends. The Latin quartier had been emptied in some places, and the hullaballoo was only beginning in others.

Here on the Rue de Gres, however, Marius could have heard not only his and Eponine's breathing, but even the slight scratching sounds of the mice in the Musain. The place was utterly deserted; not even Louison's off-key humming could be heard from within the establishment. It was as if everyone in the neighborhood had fled.

"They're not here. They must have gone to the funeral, as Courfeyrac said they would," he said to Eponine as the latter paced up and down the street.

"Those silly boys," Eponine said. "If it wasn't for Azelma's sake, I wouldn't be running here to look for M. Courfeyrac."

"Can the news wait, Mlle. Thenardier?"

"If we wait, can anyone ever hear it?" 

Marius sighed as he dusted off his coat. "Suppose we go in different ways. Whoever finds Courfeyrac first has to tell him to go to your house and call on Azelma, as soon as he can." 

Eponine paused, as if considering this plan. "I'd rather go with you, Marius."

"We haven't all day," Marius pointed out.

"I know. But the danger out there!" Eponine exclaimed. "Though I suppose you're right..." 

"Les Halles. They'll be there," the young man said quietly. "I can go there, and you can wait at the Rue de la Verrerie. It is likely, Eponine, that he will pass by there any time."

"And what if he does not come?"

"Wait till the afternoon..."

Eponine wrung her hands. "You mean to put me away from you, Marius?"

The lawyer shook his head. "I mean to save a friend, and do your sister some service."

The girl looked at him keenly. "And is that all."

Marius nodded. "It is."

Eponine bit her lip and nodded. "We will meet again, Marius. I'll see to it!" she said before hurrying up the street. Marius turned on his heel immediately to leave, the sound of Eponine's footsteps growing farther away in his ears.


	63. Wishes Not to Make

**Wishes Not to Make**

Montparnasse wished he was dead already.

The stricken young man shivered as he curled up on his pallet in Gorbeau House. The summer heat and the mosquitoes in the room meant nothing to him; he was more concerned about the cholera that was wracking him from the inside out.

"You're lucky to have held out so long," Valjean said as he knelt by the sick dandy's bedside. "It usually kills fast."

"I wish it was true," Montparnasse said with a grimace as he wiped his mouth. "Ugh, where's everyone? Gueleumer came by here yesterday."

"He's hiding under Pantin," Valjean said. "Brujon and Babet are about again, and I haven't seen Claquesous."

Montparnasse nodded feebly. "I think I'm missing a great deal. Figure the pickings will be better once that damned emeute business is done with."

Valjean poured a glass of water for Montparnasse. "That's why I sent Gavroche to the Rue Reuilly, just for the day. Once his sister's married, perhaps he can stay with her instead of with me."

"Not very attached to the mome, I see?" Montparnasse said, cracking a smile before he swallowed some water.

Valjean shrugged. "He has a father after all," he said as he got up. "I'll be back at nightfall. I have things to see to."

Montparnasse sat up and pointed to a window. "There's a carbine buried in the garden. Take it." 

Valjean nodded before heading downstairs again, leaving Montparnasse to his feverish dreams.

00000

Marius raced into the Rue de la Chanvrerie, knowing that Corinth was already open at that hour. It was already about one in the afternoon, and the sky was darkening, threatening rain.

"Ahoy there, Marius!" Bossuet called to him from the second storey. "Come to have lunch with us?"

Marius looked up and shook his head. "Say, you wouldn't know where Courfeyrac would be at?" 

"Courfeyrac? Bat would you want wid him?" Joly replied before blowing his nose.

"Urgent news, from his lady," Marius said, heading indoors as the rain began to fall. As soon as he arrived on the second floor, Bossuet pulled a chair up for him.

Joly gestured to a glass of wine. "Drink something."

Marius shook his head. "I hardly think I should. I was counting on seeing Cosette this afternoon all the same."

Grantaire burst out laughing. "So everyone has been inhaling Aphrodite's vapors! How now, it spares no one in the summer, pervasive Eros!"

"Quiet now, Capital R," Marius said uncomfortably.

Bossuet went to the window again. "Courfeyrac! Over here!" he hollered in the direction of the Rue Saint-Denis.

Everyone scrambled over to join Bossuet at the window. "He's with everyone," Grantaire slurred.

"Ahoy there Bossuet!" Courfeyrac hailed back.

"Where are you going?"

"To build a barricade!"

"Here's a good place, right here!" 

Before Marius knew what was happening, the entire mob that Courfeyrac was with had swept into the Rue de la Chanvrerie. The young men save for Grantaire, headed downstairs.

While Bossuet and Joly greeted their comrades and listened to instructions, Marius went up to Courfeyrac. "I have urgent news for you, mon ami. Azelma needs to speak with you as soon as you can spare the time," he said quickly.

Courfeyrac gave Marius an odd look. "I doubt time will be granted to us any time soon." 

Marius bit his lip and looked around. "You do stand a chance?"

"Everyone stands a chance. Now help me bring the tables out," Courfeyrac said lightly as he tapped the nearest table.

Marius sighed. "And what of Cosette?" he asked in a low voice.

"So I see you have decided to join us?" Enjolras chimed in from nearby, giving Marius a knowing look.

The younger man looked at his friends, then out at the Rue Saint-Denis. "I am here, but merely to do a favor." 

"There is fighting out in the streets," Bahorel pointed out. "You may as well make a stand here with us till the day is won."

The confidence in his friend's voice buoyed Marius' spirits a little. He looked Enjolras in the eye and nodded. "Yes. Till the day is won," he said before going to help build the barricade.


	64. A Street to Pass Me By

**A Street to Pass Me By**

Cosette had never been on the Rue de la Verrerie before, but she had heard Marius speak of it a few times.

"Perhaps Gavroche has come here to visit," she said to herself as she entered the unfamiliar street. After a few steps, she sat on the sidewalk and propped up her aching feet on a paving block.

"_Dieu, where could he be?"_ she wondered as she buried her face in her hands. The pavement was still wet, and mud clung to the hem of her skirt, but Cosette did not care. She tried not to think of the awful things she was hearing, of riots and barricades and the National Guardsmen.

"_Marius, where are you?"_ she thought as she looked around. She had passed by the Luxembourg that day, but did not find him there. She had waited for half an hour, but there was no sign of him all the same. Deep down, Cosette knew where he might be, but she dared not voice it.

"There's no chance of finding him here, Cosette," Eponine said, walking up to Cosette scornfully.

Cosette stood up. "Who are you talking about?"

"Shouldn't it be obvious?" 

"Why must you inquire into my doings? They're nothing to you!"

Eponine shook her head. "I'm not some stupid bourgeois brat, if that's what you think I am. I know what you've been about."

Cosette took a deep breath to compose herself. "I never thought you were stupid. But all the same, have you seen him? Not Marius, but your brother."

Eponine paled. "My brother? And why?"

"He was put in my care and my mother's, but he ran off. That was in the morning, and I've been going all over Paris since then," Cosette said calmly. 

"That is to be expected," Eponine frowned. "That boy, with all his mischief...I hope he doesn't get hurt," she added in a small voice.

"Mlle. Thenardier...Eponine...you have to help me find him," Cosette begged.

"I know," Eponine whispered, looking around the street. "I don't...no, he shouldn't be at the Rue de la Chanvrerie. They'll send him away, especially if they're drinking." 

"Rue de la Chanvrerie, in Les Halles?" Cosette asked.

"The bistro, Corinth. They weren't at the Musain, or elsewhere. Marius went there to take a look," Eponine said. "And I haven't seen him since either, or M. Courfeyrac, or anyone else."

Cosette nodded. "I suppose we are going the same way then."

"That's only to be expected," Eponine said, biting her lip as they turned to leave the street.


	65. Concerns and Spies

**Concerns and Spies**

"I cannot think of a faster way to go about this," Bossuet said as they finished putting the omnibus in place. The barricade was almost complete; in fact they were only working now to increase the height of the rampart. The Rue de la Chanvrerie as well as the Rue de Mondetour were both blocked off by barrels, paving stones, furniture and other miscellany from the area.

Enjolras got down from where he was standing on a chair to survey the entire construction. "It will hold. The National Guard will have difficulty getting through," he said with a firm nod. 

Suddenly, a crash was heard from upstairs, followed by the sound of tumbling furniture. "Now what's happened?" Feuilly asked.

Suddenly, Grantaire's voice could be heard shouting, "There, the siege has begun. Do you mean to fight like in Thermopylae?"

"Grantaire, sleep it off elsewhere!" Enjolras reprimanded. A thud sounded from the wineshop, followed by the sound of someone being dragged.

"He tripped," a man reported from inside the wineshop. This stranger was tall, and he wore a hat with a tricolor cockade. He was carrying a chair, which he added to the barricade. In the light, his sideburns were visible as well as his whiskers.

"A useful fellow," Bahorel remarked as he passed by.

"I'm not so sure," Combeferre said in a low voice.

Jehan looked up from where he had been scrawling a poem. "Will someone ever write an account of this?" he asked.

Joly winced. "The only account will be when Bossuet and I return home, and Musichetta raps us upside our heads for having scared her so!"

Courfeyrac shook his head. "I have already explained some of this to Azelma, so perhaps all I owe her is a little apology for my most recent indiscretion."

Marius shot him a long-suffering glance. "That is an understatement."

"Not so, not so," Courfeyrac said lightly. "Does Cosette know you're here?" 

Marius' expression suddenly became mournful. "I do hope I get to see her, and that will be enough."

Bahorel glanced at Enjolras, who was now loading his carbine. "What of you, mon ami?"

Enjolras did not look up. "Just one cause and that is enough for any man," he said. "Go to your posts."

Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged looks as the rest of the revolutionaries walked off. "You do have some days left before the inevitable," Courfeyrac said. Noting Enjolras' puzzled expression, he added, "Before the church and the mayor and the registrar, I meant."

Combeferre elbowed him teasingly. "Don't remind him of it!"

Enjolras managed a wry smile. "I doubt that Mlle. Thenardier would want to marry an insurgent," he said simply before going to see to the construction of the rampart at the Rue de Mondetour.

Courfeyrac laughed as he walked towards the rear of the redoubt. "So he prefers to think!"

A shout came up from the direction of the Rue de Mondetour. "Wait your turn!" a man roared, wresting a musket away from a small boy.

"Now what's this about?" Enjolras demanded, stepping between them. The young man took a look at the child and shook his head. "Go home, Gavroche."

Marius started on hearing the child's name. "He's right, Gavroche. You had better leave, it's for your own good."

Gavroche stuck out his tongue. "Give me a musket! You'll need every gun to be fired to keep those guardsmen away."

"Guns that don't lose their footing," Bossuet added warningly.

"I have a pistol." Gavroche said defiantly.

"That's all well for you. Slip out, since you're small and cannot be seen," Enjolras ordered. 

Gavroche gave him a military salute. "Fine, see that nothing gets by!" he said before springing out of the barricade. 

Marius looked at where Gavroche had gone. "What is the point of that?"

"To send him out. It is a useless errand, there are sentries about," Enjolras muttered. "And we might know something all the same..."

None of them noticed however how the man with the cockade and the sideburns was looking about, or how he stopped in one corner to take a pinch of snuff.


	66. Disaster and Separation

**Disaster and Separation**

"You are sure this is the right way?" Cosette asked as she and Eponine wandered through the darkened streets in the market district. The sounds of streetfighting and cannons were a little distant, but still, the two young girls were uneasy.

Eponine shrugged. "Les Halles always looks different in the dark I thought you'd know better."

"I rarely went by Corinth," Cosette admitted.

Eponine twirled back a stray lock of hair. "Well, we're near the Rue Saint-Denis. Do we go down the Rue de la Chanvrerie, or towards the Rue Mondetour?" she wondered aloud.

Cosette paused. "Rue de la Chanvrerie then. It's closer."

The two girls ran along in the shadow of the houses, and turned the corner into the narrow street. At the sight of the barricade, however, they stopped. 

"Should we go on?" Eponine whispered, gripping a post.

"Perhaps we could call to them," Cosette suggested. "But there's a reason why they're so quiet..." 

"Footsteps!" Eponine whispered, backing herself and Cosette under an awning.

True, someone was coming down the Rue Saint-Denis. A shrill young voice sang, "_Mon nex est en larmes..._. Suddenly, the skinny form of Gavroche appeared nearby. He had a pistol in his hand.

"Goodness, what troops they send!" the boy said. His eyes widened when he recognized them. "Ponine? Cosette?"

Cosette and Eponine grabbed him by his shoulders. "Gavroche, please get out of here. I don't care what anyone says, you're not supposed to be here!" Eponine begged.

Gavroche shook out of his sister's grip. "No, you have to go. You too, Mademoiselle Cosette. The guard's about!" 

"Come with us, Gavroche!" Cosette cried, trying to lead him away by the hand.

"There's work to be done," Gavroche replied over the sound of marching.

A voice called from inside the barricade, "What's going on there?" 

"News, visitors!" Gavroche replied just before the first line of National Guards and Municipal Guards entered the street.

"Get back here!" Cosette shouted, dragging him into her hiding place. Eponine covered her brother's mouth to muffle his protests as the regiment took its place.

"Who goes there?" the leader of the regiment shouted as he stood at the head of the line full of leveled muskets.

"The French Revolution!"

"Fire!"

Eponine covered her ears as the explosion tore through the Rue de la Chanvrerie. "Crawl away," she mouthed to Cosette. Half-dragging Gavroche with her, she began making her way back up the street, even as the barricade's assailants were reloading their weapons.

Gavroche looked back over his shoulder after the second explosion. "They're trying to get in! Watch out!" he cried, springing to his feet.

"No!" Eponine yelled, but it was too late. The Municipal Guard had noticed them.

"Get behind the barricade!" Cosette shouted, realizing that there was no way of leaving by the Rue Saint-Denis. She saw Eponine shove Gavroche towards the opening in the barricade even as the Municipal Guards were being repulsed by the defenders within. Cosette picked up the first thing to defend herself with; a flowerpot. She flung it at the nearest Municipal Guard, giving her enough time to run to the gap in the barricade...

...and to see Marius running up with the powder keg.

"Get back or I'll blow up the barricade!" Marius shouted. He had a torch in his hand.

"Blow up the barricade! And yourself too!" an officer laughed.

"And myself too,"

Cosette watched aghast as the attackers fleed from the barricade. "Marius!" she called to the young man, who was replacing the powder keg.

"Cosette!" the young lawyer exclaimed with shock and horror as he steadied her with his arm. 'Are you alright? How have you come here?" 

Cosette checked herself over even as some men led by Combeferre rushed to assist the wounded and bring them into the wineshop. She flinched as she saw some dead bodies being brought to the back of the redoubt. "I'm fine. But you, Marius?" 

Marius looked down. "Forgive me Cosette," he said. 

"You need not explain to me," Cosette said, touching his cheek. "But I came here for Gavroche."

"And here he is," Joly said, bringing over Gavroche, who'd fallen down and torn his trousers.

Enjolras turned to them. "I told you to leave," he said furiously to Gavroche.

'Well I can fight, smooth-face," Gavroche retorted. "You're like these two ladies---"

Cosette looked around and her face paled. "Eponine! She was just with us!" she gasped. 

"Outside the barricade?" Marius asked.

Cosette nodded. "Where could she be?"

"Taken prisoner?" Bossuet shuddered. "But she's not one of us, strictly."

"Prouvaire is missing too!" Bahorel shouted.

Combeferre and Enjolras exchanged looks. "Definitely taken prisoner," Combeferre mouthed.


	67. Irony Inside and Out

**Irony Inside and Out**

"We have to find some way..." Feuilly said, looking at Enjolras pleadingly.

"They will not listen to a truce. Perhaps it will be easier for us to get Citoyenne Thenardier to safety, but not for Prouvaire," Enjolras said grimly. "Perhaps if we say that Jehan was not one of us..." he said more quietly, flinching at the prospect of having to lie. "_But if it saves Jehan...and Eponine..._

"Now, we're out of time!" Bahorel roared, grabbing his musket. "I'll scare them off and that will give him enough time!"

"Bahorel!" Marius, Bossuet, and Combeferre protested as they tried to hold him back. The older man however pushed them all away and began running up towards the top of the rampart.

"Don't shoot!" Enjolras shouted after his friend, even as the clicking of muskets could be heard.

"_Vive Le Republique!_ Long live the future!" Jehan shouted from the outside before the report sounded.

Everyone inside was silent, save for Bahorel, who was now openly weeping. "No!" the stunned man shouted. "They've killed him!"

"Get down!" Bossuet cried, bravely running up to pull his friend out of danger.

Bahorel shook him off, but proceeded to climb down the barricade himself. "They'll pay for this!"

"In due time," Enjolras answered quietly even as he headed inside the wineshop to look for more cartridges. At the door, he stopped. "Something is not right," he said to himself.

"What is it?" Combeferre asked.

Enjolras shook his head. "We'll call the roll again soon, after we see to the wounded," he replied.

The inside of Corinth was now bare, save for a few tables for cartridges, some bottles in a corner, and the few mattresses that held the wounded. Enjolras and Combeferre saw Joly get up from beside a mattress and walk over to them.

"We've found her," he said simply. "I'll get Marius, Cosette, and Gavroche?"

"Do not. They do not have to be here, Joly," a weak voice answered.

Enjolras walked over to a mattress in the corner. Eponine lay there, flat on her back. The front of her dress was bloodied and had been torn open, showing where she had been bandaged. Her brow was slick with a cold sweat. "What happened?" he asked, sitting down by the pallet.

Eponine turned to him. "A bayonet. It was meant for my brother. I caught it instead," she said.

Combeferre put a hand on Enjolras' shoulder. "Should I stay, or shall I leave you?"

"Get the names of everyone here, then call the roll outside," Enjolras said. "And tell them all the same,"

Eponine shook her head as she watched her friend leave. "You're such a stubborn man, M. Enjolras...Antoine..."

Enjolras bit his lip. She hadn't called him by his given name ever since their engagement was announced. "You had better rest..."

Eponine seized his hand. "No. It will not be long. I don't want to be alone," she whispered even as she coughed. More blood soaked through her bandages and her clothing.

"You shouldn't have come."

"I came because I had to. For my brother, since he was here. And my sister...she wants to see Courfeyrac."

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. 'What for?"

"She won't tell me," Eponine said. "It's awfully funny...with the two of them, I mean. You all used to laugh about it once...so long ago."

Enjolras nodded ruefully. "Not very long actually. Only a few months."

Eponine looked at him. "Well, we'll never marry now. At least I won't, " she said. "Listen, you will live, won't you? You'll come out of here...well then, take care of Marius, please? It should have been my part...I knew him for so long, and I cared for so long. And for Cosette too, since it makes him happy when she's safe...and of course my brother..."

Enjolras considered her carefully, wondering what to say to this girl who he had detested for so long, but now was starting to feel more than mere pity for. "_I do not know what will happen, but we...I can hope for the best..."_ he thought. He clasped her hand more tightly. "I will do my best, Eponine."

The girl sighed and lay back. "Thank you," she murmured.

Enjolras was about to disentangle their fingers when he suddenly felt her hand squeeze his again. "Eponine?" he asked, turning to her.

Eponine looked at him and managed a smile. "I just want you to know, Antoine...I did not really mind being engaged to you..." she whispered before her eyes closed and her hand fell limp.

Enjolras bowed his head, out of respect, and simply because words would not come to him. "Good night, Eponine," he said at last before kissing her hands and getting to his feet.

It was just then that Cosette and Combeferre appeared in the doorway. "She's gone?" Cosette whispered.

Enjolras nodded. "Any news?"

Combeferre put a hand on the doorjamb. "Another man is missing. His name is Thierry Fabre..."

"The man with the cockade and the whiskers," Marius said from behind Cosette.

'That is his name, or so he said," Enjolras said gravely.

Gavroche pushed his way past Combeferre. "Reminded me of an Inspector I knew..."

"Inspector?" Combeferre repeated.

Gavroche crossed his arms. "I couldn't be sure. It was dark, Citizens. But it did look like him. He's been hiding from me. But some of us found this when he passed. Got it out of his pockets when they fell," he said, handing over a snuffbox and a small card.

Enjolras read the card and his eyes narrowed. "Javert, Inspector of Police," he said. "We've had an informer in our midst all this while."

"What shall we do then? He is nowhere to be found," Marius pointed out.

Enjolras put the objects down. "Weather what he will send to us. Soon, the tide will change. Back to your posts," he ordered, striding out of the wineshop.


	68. To Miss is to Fear

**To Miss is to Fear**

"_I cannot cry. I mustn't cry..."_ Fantine thought as she waited in the garden. She knew that everyone else in the house was asleep, but she was not about to take chances.

It was almost midnight, and a cool wind was blowing through Paris. Fantine did not smell the gunpowder, blood, and smoke from far away, but she felt as if it was too close to her all the same.

She ran to the garden wall and noticed the chink there. She peered through with bated breath, hoping for someone to pass by. After what seemed to be forever, she heard a knock on the gate, followed by footsteps going towards the wall.

"Fantine? Are you still awake? Where is Gavroche?" Valjean's voice asked. 

Fantine forced herself to remain calm. "I do not know. He and Cosette are nowhere to be found. I went in the house to finish something, leaving them in the garden. When I returned, the gate was open."

Silence. "Perhaps they are elsewhere, and not at the barricades."

"No, not my Cosette. No! And not Gavroche too!"

Valjean walked over to the gate, and Fantine followed. "No word whatsoever then?" Valjean pressed on.

"None. I wouldn't be out here if I didn't know that my Cosette was safe," Fantine said, wringing her hands. "M'sieur, I don't know what to do."

Valjean paused, as if pondering her. In the moonlight, Fantine seemed to be a silvery portrait of despair; beautiful with her flowing hair and her mouth, but with unmistakable pain in her eyes.

"I can look for her," Valjean said at last. "And for Gavroche. Evidently, the mome ran off, and Cosette has tried to seek him out." 

"I'm afraid so," Fantine whispered. "But the barricade..."

"I have my ways of slipping in," Valjean reassured Fantine. "By noon, I will have been able to go through all of Paris. By sundown tomorrow, I will do my best to bring them both back here."

Fantine would have embraced Valjean for this were it not for the gate between them. "My, if only Cosette could have had a father such as you," she murmured. "A bien tot, Monsieur Valjean. We do meet again?"

"When I bring back your child," Valjean answered before he slipped into the shadows, leaving Fantine standing there to continue her vigil.


	69. Of Waiting and Requests

**Of Waiting and Requests**

"What time does your watch read, Courfeyrac? I forgot to wind mine," Bossuet asked his friend in a low voice.

"Half past two," Courfeyrac replied as he fiddled with his sabre. Most of the barricade's defenders were outside Corinth, simply awaiting the next attack. Cosette, Combeferre, and Joly had remained inside with a few others to see to the remaining wounded. In a corner, Bahorel and Marius were setting aside some of the uniforms of the dead National Guards. Enjolras was silently impassive at his post, but now and then he was seen writing furtively.

Gavroche was restlessly pacing about. "What is taking them so long? Short of men perhaps?" he said as he thumped a musket.

"Be careful there," another workingman warned from a corner. This man hadn't been at the barricade earlier, during the first attack.

Gavroche stared at the newcomer. "Claquesous?" he mumbled, drawing closer to the shadows.

Claquesous made a sign to Gavroche. "Got anything worth keeping?"

Gavroche shook his head. "Pick the orchard yourself, my good man. Why, you're tall enough for all the grapes!"

Claquesous growled something incoherently. "You're making a mess here. I have something for you to do, from Montparnasse."

Gavroche made a face. "But he is so far from here!"

"Never mind all the same. Give me that musket," the ventriloquist said.

Gavroche shook his head. "Not with this Revolution! Well, I have to take a little walk. Cartridges are running short inside," he said cheerily before springing out of the barricade at the Rue Mondetour.

0000   
"They'll last the night. Do not worry," Combeferre said reassuringly to Cosette as the girl finished tying up a bandage on the arm of an injured student.

Cosette wiped her face with her hand. "Two dead already here...why must men fight, M. Combeferre? Can't they just learn to get along?" she asked. 

Combeferre smiled. "One day, things will change. One day, men will have peace, the peace they have always needed since the dawn of time."

"God is good in that way, I suppose," Cosette said just as the wineshop door opened. 

Combeferre turned and nodded to Enjolras, who was standing in the doorway. "Any news, mon ami?" he asked concernedly. 

"The Rue de la Chanvrerie is quiet. In about an hour, I'm going to make a reconaissance," Enjolras said. He had a folded paper in his hand, apparently torn out from some pocketbook. 

"The barricade at Saint-Merry," Combeferre said. 

Enjolras nodded. "We must see how our brothers fare there," he said as he looked over the room. His face was pallid, as if he had been through some struggle of his own in the silence. 

"Perhaps they are faring better. I only hope they are," Cosette whispered.

Enjolras did not answer, but he handed the paper to her. "We'll find some way to send you and Gavroche home safely, Citoyenne," he said. "As soon as you can, please deliver this letter to Azelma."

Cosette tucked the letter in her pocket with a sad smile on her face. "She deserves to know..."

"They're coming again!" a voice shouted from outside. Before Cosette could say anything, the men dashed out of the wineshop with their weapons in hand.

The artillery had arrived; now there was a four-pounder in the Rue de la Chanvrerie. The Municipal Guard had congregated again too outside the redoubt. Inside the barricade, every man stopped what he was doing, and hurried to his post.

"Fire!" Enjolras ordered. Smoke and the sounds of shooting filled the air.

Suddenly, another belated shot sounded from within, followed by the sound of a bullet bouncing off a helmet. "Who was that?" Marius asked. 

Cosette, who'd stepped out of the wineshop, covered her mouth with her hand. In the redoubt now was a familiar face, a man with white hair.

"M. Valjean!" she whispered.


	70. One In, Two Out

**One In, Two Out**

Gavroche had lied; there really was no need for cartridges yet within the barricade.

The child quietly walked up and down the streets, searching for anything and everything in nooks and crannies. Now and then, he'd find a stray apple, an abandoned box of cartridges or some other useful piece of whatnot.

"They can say all they want, but the sparrows do not care," he sang to himself as he leapt over a patch of mud. He stuck his hands in his coat pocket as he looked up at the darkness above.

"_You did not have to, Ponine,"_ he thought. He bit his lip, holding back a sigh of grief as he picked up a stone and weighed it in his hand. He put it down after a few moments and continued humming as he put whatever he could in his pockets.

00000

At the barricade, everyone was too busy to notice Valjean's arrival. Up on the rampart, the defenders hacked away or fired at the Municipal Guards who dared to go near the wall. The soldiers manning the four-pounder had scattered, much to the relief of some.

"Is there a way to make sure that they won't be able to use that cannon to their advantage?" Courfeyrac asked as soon as the attackers had scattered.

"Short of bringing it over here, which is nigh impossible till we clear the street," Enjolras said as he reloaded his carbine.

"Marius, that keg of powder..." Courfeyrac began.

"Non, everything has been used up for cartridges," Feuilly reported. "By the way, Bahorel and Bossuet got hurt, but just minorly. Besides them, no one else more was wounded in the last attack, but we have five dead. "

"Of all the luck," Combeferre remarked sorrowfully, wiping off his hands.

Enjolras put down his carbine and turned back to the inside of the barricade. His eyes widened with surprise when he noticed Valjean there. "Good morning there, Citoyen. How have you come here?" he greeted.

"As a volunteer," Valjean answered quickly.

"The Republic thanks you for your intervention," Enjolras said. He looked back at the Rue de la Chanvrerie and at his watch. "They won't attack again for some time," he noted as he climbed down from the rampart, carbine in hand.

Combeferre glanced at him knowingly. "Be careful," he said, putting a hand on Enjolras' shoulder.

The younger man nodded before going out by the Rue Mondetour.

000 

"_It is only three in the morning..."_ Enjolras realized as he stayed in the shadows. Fatigue was still not coming to him, and that at least he could be thankful for.

"_Where is everyone?"_ he wondered. He had expected people to come to their side by this time; surely the Revolution was already beginning to sweep out of Paris?

"Bonjour!" a man called to him. This man was wearing a red cap.

"Here, from the barricade at the Rue de la Chanvrerie. Where have you come from?" Enjolras asked. He knew the voice; it was of a former student at the Polytechnic school.

"From the barricade at Saint-Merry." 

"Ah. Any news there?"

"Several wounded, three dead. No one else joining us. We are abandoned." 

Enjolras' hand tightened on his carbine. "But you are still standing?"

"To the death," the other man replied. "And you?"

"For as long as there are men left to stand," Enjolras answered. "I've seen wounded, and they aren't from either of our barricades."

"So there is still hope, however dim."

In the silence, both men knew the grim reality of what was coming, of what had happened. The other student shouldered his rifle first and turned away. "I'll deliver your message and say that the Rue de la Chanvrerie still stands," he said.

"Vive le Republique," Enjolras mumured before continuing on his reconaissance. He did not want to think very much of what had happened; but only of what lay ahead. Still, however he tried, it still looped back to the grim hours before.

"_I'm sorry, Jehan. And you too, Eponine..."_ he thought. He forced himself not to at least show any signs of grief, not when he had so many people looking to him.

"_But it still does not change things..."_ he realized as he turned back towards the Rue de la Chanvrerie.


	71. Words and Tidings to Keep

**Words and Tidings to Keep**

In the meantime, Valjean found himself a place on the right of the redoubt, close enough for him to fire into the Rue de la Chanvrerie with relative ease.

"Why did you come here?" Marius asked him incredulously. "I thought---" 

"I came as a volunteer, but you will see why," Valjean replied. He looked at Cosette. "Have you seen Gavroche?" 

"For a while, but he slipped out again," Cosette replied, anguish tinging her normally calm voice. "I know, my Maman is looking for me?"

Valjean nodded just as a cheery whistle came from the Rue Mondetour. "Brandy and cartridges for the revolution!" a voice hailed.

Combeferre got up and went to the end of the redoubt. "Who goes there?" 

"A friend," a cartdriver replied as he made his appearance atop his wagon. He handed down bottles of brandy and five boxes of cartridges amid the cheers of the defenders.

"Who sent this?" Enjolras asked, now having returned from his reconaissance.

'Were you a less sober man, mon ami, we would have thought it was you," Courfeyrac joked.

"Actually, it is from one of the distilleries," the cartdriver explained. 

Enjolras motioned for him to get off the cart. "We have a personal favor to ask of you, Citoyen," he said, leading this newcomer off. Combeferre and Courfeyrac followed them after a few moments.

Marius, who had declined the brandy, could not help but glance at his friends as they continued discussing something with the cart driver. Cosette noticed the look on his face. "It is some important matter, cher coeur, so do not worry," she reassured him.

He gave her a rueful look. "Cosette, you shouldn't have seen any of this."

She pressed his fingers gently. "We cannot turn back time, but we can still hope for the best," she whispered.

Suddenly, Valjean stood in front of them. "Come, both of you," he said to them firmly. 

Marius gave Cosette his arm as they went towards the Rue Mondetour, to where Enjolras now stood with the cart driver. The cart was empty of supplies now, but it had been piled high with sacks. "No sign of Gavroche anywhere?" Enjolras asked them.

Valjean shook his head. "But there is no time to lose. It's almost morning," he said, pointing to the east.

Cosette glanced at all of them, eyes wide with bewilderment. "Sir...what are you talking about?" she asked.

"We have to get you to safety," Enjolras replied. "This man, Citoyen Gervais, offers you passage in his cart, out of Les Halles."

Cosette grasped Marius' hand. "I do not want to leave you here," she whispered to him.

Marius lifted her chin with his other hand. "I'll come back, Cosette. You'll see," he said, looking into her eyes.

Cosette paused, then nodded tearfully. "What about you, M. Valjean?" she asked, turning to the other man with them.

"There's still Gavroche," the old man replied.

"What do I tell my mother?" Cosette asked. "She'll be looking for her."

"Tell her everything will be just fine," Valjean said.

Cosette looked him in the eye. "I won't forget this. Thank you, and you too, M. Enjolras."

"A duty that has to be done," Enjolras said as Cosette climbed into the back of the cart and let go of Marius' hand.

"Wait a minute there, Marius," Valjean said, half-shoving Marius towards the cart. "You also." 

Marius stepped back. "What? Why me? What about everyone else?" he asked, turning to Enjolras. "They have as much right as I do to go home!"

Enjolras put a hand on Marius' shoulder. "We have pledges to honor; to the Republic, to this barricade, and for freedom, but you yourself said you had another to honor."

Marius nodded as a memory returned to him, of another evening not so long before. "To do what was right by her?" he replied slowly.

Enjolras smiled, but strangely his expression was of solemnity mixed with some sadness. "Do not waste any more time. Now go!"

Marius quickly climbed into the cart with Cosette, and helped her hide under the sacks. Gervais glanced back at them, then gave a salute to Enjolras. "For the Republic, citoyen!" he said before driving the cart off down the Rue Mondetour. Before the cart went around a corner, Marius waved one last time before concealing himself again.

Over the barricade, the first ray of light poked through the dark tapestry of sky.


	72. Unhappy Coincidence

**Unhappy Coincidence**

"The Honorable Eight-Pounder!" Courfeyrac said, pointing towards the Rue de la Chanvrerie.

It was almost noon already, and matters were already taking a grim turn. Every man already had a supply of cartridges, but besides the brandy, there was no more food within the barricade. More men had been wounded and a few killed; in fact, there was hardly anyone in the redoubt who was not wearing a bandage of some sort.

"Everyone on your knees!" Enjolras shouted before another blast ripped through the street. From upstairs, the men commanded by Feuilly fired on the attackers outside the barricade.

"Dieu! I'm bleeding!" Claquesous roared as he dropped his musket. "I'll show them!" 

"How many are we left?" Enjolras asked. They'd already sent away some men, for their sakes, and quite a number had already been killed.

"Twenty-one left," Combeferre reported.

It was suddenly at this point that someone sprang in from the Rue Mondetour. "They're coming!" Gavroche shouted breathlessly.

"Who's coming?' Bossuet asked, from where he was adjusting his bandage.

"National Guards," Gavroche said, taking up Claquesous' musket. 

"Feuilly, get some of the men further inside to defend the Rue Mondetour. Some of you, go there as well. We must at least deter them from coming this way, even after we've raised the rampart!" Enjolras ordered.

Every man now busied himself with searching for stones, masonry, or furniture for raising the height of the barricades at the Rue de la Chanvrerie and the Rue Mondetour. Inside Corinth, more preparations took place as men blocked up the windows and even nailed up the doors. The barricade was far from quiet; even in this grave pass, men continued to talk and laugh.

Valjean on the other hand, was quiet and almost impassive as he lifted a last beam into place. His eyes noticed Gavroche also helpiing with the construction. Quickly, he walked over to the boy.

"Gavroche, go home," he said, grabbing him by his coat. "You shouldn't be here."

"And why not?" Gavroche asked. "Everyone's here..." 

"Listen to me, boy. You're not supposed to be here. Your sisters wait for you at home."

"Just one now." 

"Still!" Valjean said urgently. "Now, before the wall is closed."

"They're here! Every man to his post, now," Combeferre said. Quickly, each man took his place on both ramparts. Valjean found himself back on the wall of the Rue de la Chanvrerie. Before he could fire a shot, however, more grapeshot ripped through the barricade. He heard what sounded like someone falling, but he did not look back to see the man's face. 

Shouts sounded from the Rue Mondetour. Axes and pikes had been placed there to stop the advance of the National and Municipal guards. Now, these men were finding themselves at the mercy of these weapons as the beleagured insurgents fought back.

Enjolras at last threw down his carbine, having no more bullets to fire. The attacks from both sides were beginning to drive them all back towards the wineshop.

"Here, take this---" Courfeyrac said, giving a poleax to Valjean before another shot was fired. To Valjean's horror, the young man suddenly slumped to the ground at his feet.

Combeferre, who was closest to the door of the wineshop, just managed to close the door when after a few moments, it was opened again. "What then? The charge still continues!" Grantaire's voice greeted over the sound of firing.

"Do something!" Feuilly cried, handing down a musket to Grantaire before the cannon fired again.

Now, the barricade was breached. Every insurgent found himself pressed up between two waves of attack coming from both sides. Enjolras and some others now had their backs to the wineshop, while Valjean and Grantaire held the door. Grantaire was pale as he held his musket; the drink was wearing off, and the full horror of what had just happened was beginning to sink in.

'They're all gone," he said. "Feuilly, Combeferre..."

"Not lucky this time," Valjean said grimly.

Gavroche, who'd so far been unscathed, now struggled to stay on his feet. 'Their boots must be weighted!" he said before he suddenly fell to his knees.

"No!" Valjean whispered as he tried to lift the wounded child up. As he picked up Gavroche, he found himself looking into an awfully familiar pair of dark eyes.

Now, Javert looked coolly from Valjean to Enjolras, Grantaire, and the few who still remained. The inspector had changed back into his uniform, and discarded his cockade. 

Javert nodded to the seargent of the National Guard. "Apparently, the wine here must not have been good enough," he remarked.


	73. Of a Homecoming

**Of a Homecoming**

Even when haggard and pale, Fantine was still beautiful. 

The woman had not broken her watch on the street all this time. It was past noon already, and the hot summer sun was beating down on her. Still, she did not take refuge under a tree, or inside the house.

She heard what sounded like a wagon clattering down the street, followed by the sound of two people running. "Maman!" she heard a girl shout just as two young people came up to the gate.

Fantine unbolted the gate and grasped Cosette to her. "Cosette, don't scare me like that again! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Maman, and so is Marius," Cosette said, nodding to her companion.

Fantine smiled with relief, but her eyes suddenly became dark. "Where are Gavroche and M. Valjean."

"Gavroche ran off from the barricade. No one knows why. M. Valjean stayed to find him," Marius said somberely.

Fantine crossed herself. "Get inside. You both smell of powder, and I don't know what else. There's bread out for you," she said. She turned to Gervais, the cart driver. "I do not know how to thank you, sir," she said. 

"Don't thank me. Thank their friends," Gervais said. "Nothing else in mind but to get them safe here. Angels watching," he added before getting back on his cart.

Fantine turned to go into the house after Cosette and Marius. She found the two of them sitting at a rickety table, cutting the bread into pieces. "Tell me what happened," she said after Marius had pulled up a chair for her. "The news of the other barricades haven't been good so far...I think for all purposes, you two will be declared 'missing'?"

The young couple exchanged looks. "Perhaps. If no one asks," Marius said. Briefly, he related a shorter version of what had transpired at the barricades till their departure. All the while, he did not let go of Cosette's hand. 

Fantine was pale as Marius concluded his narrative. She wrung her hands before taking some bread for herself. "Thank God you're both alive...but what of the rest? You have to tell the Thenardiers soon what happened to Eponine," she said.

Cosette nodded. "M. Enjolras told me to deliver a letter to Azelma," she said, bringing the letter out of her pocket. "Is it safe to go?"

Fantine bit her lip. "Change out of your clothes first. I'll have to find something for you, Marius..." 

Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door. Fantine got up and opened it, only to have little Navet almost shove his way past her. "Where's Gavroche?" the gamin demanded.

Marius started. "He's not here. He was at the barricades."

"Oh bugger it all," Navet muttered. "They've fallen already!" 

Cosette gasped, while Fantine let out a sigh. Marius' eyes widened as his shoulders slumped. "Where did you hear this?" he asked Navet.

"I was going by the place, and I saw the Inspector leading off some men, among them that big fellow who Gavroche lives with," Navet said.

Fantine let out a cry. "That's M. Valjean!"

Marius grabbed Navet's shoulder. "Were there any others?"

Navet scratched his head. "Some workingmen, two of those students who were with us in the sewers...the one with a squashed face and the other tall man with yellow hair. Gavroche wasn't with them."

"He's either dead or in the hospital," Marius murmured. "And those other men must have been Enjolras and Grantaire." 

Fantine composed herself and ran her fingers through her hair. "I suppose now, we can go out. There is much we have to do. Navet...that is your name, petit?" she said to the boy. 

Navet nodded. "What does the citoyenne want?" 

"Can you show us the way to the hospital? We just have to be sure," Fantine said. "You're a good citoyen, monsieur, whatever you want, so I'm sure you'll help us." 

Navet blushed deeply. "I s'pose so," he said, leading them all out the door.


	74. Revisiting

**Revisiting**

"Where is he? Where did they bring Gavroche?" Valjean muttered as he grasped the bars of the jail cell. It was already late afternoon.

"Hopefully not to Les Madelonttes," Enjolras answered from where he was seated in a corner, across from Grantaire. The rest of their companions had been put in different cells, leaving the three of them together.

Valjean muttered a curse as he sat on the floor. "So this is where it ends, Enjolras? Have you told your parents? Or those of your friends? What about Eponine and Gavroche's father?" he seethed. 

Enjolras looked up, obviously stung. "It was not supposed to end this way. We all knew what we were getting into. I never forced anyone to join this insurrection," he said.

"You did what you could, from what I hear," Grantaire said. "I talked to the others."

Enjolras nodded, as if accepting this reassurance from the drunkard. "It was all I could do, with these times. Perhaps people aren't ready yet," he said. The young man looked around the prison cell. "It looks dingier than the last time I was in jail."

Valjean leaned back against the rusty bars. "How old are you, Enjolras?"

"I'm turning twenty-six this September."

"I was only a little older than you when I first went to prison," Valjean said. "Of all things, for stealing a loaf of bread."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"So you'll know." 

"Go on then," Enjolras said, sitting up.

Valjean flicked some dust into the air. "It was winter. I lived with my sister and her seven children. Her husband had died months before. We had no money. I didn't have any work. It's easy to say that anyone can find work, but not in Faverolles."

Grantaire laughed wryly. "The reality of life."

Valjean nodded. "I broke a windowpane. I grabbed the loaf; Dieu, it was still warm then! And I ran, when I heard the baker coming. I was caught all the same, and sentenced to five years in the galleys."

Enjolras shuddered. "An inhumanity," he murmured.

"Call it what you will," Valjean said derisively, looking the young men straight in the face. "But that is what happened. I tried, I tried to escape to see my sister and her children again. To escape that hell of a hulk of a ship. To have a life again beyond simply being a number for the adjutants."

"A twist you're putting on this story, Valjean," a voice said from behind. 

Valjean did not even turn to look at Javert. "That was how it seemed to me."

Javert looked them all over. "You had your chances. You, Enjolras, and you too Grantaire...you could have done something else. And you, Valjean, a life in Paris. In crime, hiding, but you had your fun and your time."

"It was hardly a life at all!" Valjean retorted angrily. "At least...it was not a life, till not so long ago," he added almost inaudibly. If the light had been better, everyone would have seen that he was on the point of tears.


	75. A Messenger Must Also Seek to Comfort

**A Messenger Must Also Seek to Comfort**

The hospital was a confusion when Marius, Cosette, Fantine, and Navet arrived there. Doctors rushed to and fro, sometimes even jostling their patients. Cosette anxiously searched the faces of the patients lying on mattresses or seated in chairs, hoping to soon find her young friend.

"Who are you looking for, Mademoiselle?" a surly doctor asked her.

"A boy, he's only about that high," Cosette answered, holding out her hand to indicate Gavroche's height. "He has reddish-yellow hair, wears a hat, he might be wounded...his name is Gavroche." 

The doctor nodded to an orderly. "They brought in some children from the barricades, didn't they?"

The orderly glanced at Cosette. "Are you his sister?"

"A proxy, actually. His sister sent us," Marius answered.

The orderly shrugged as he guided them towards some cots set up in a corner. "Have a look here."

Navet ran past them all and went beside one bed. "Gavroche! Wake up!" he said, slapping the pale face of a child who was sleeping fitfully. 

Cosette held Navet's shoulders. "Don't do that!" 

"He's just joking again!"

Gavroche opened his eyes heavily. "What happened? Navet?" he asked. 

"We're here, Gavroche," Marius said.

The injured child nodded. "I don't like this place."

"We'll bring you back home, where someone can care for you. Is that possible?" Marius asked.

The orderly shrugged. "We have too many people to care for, as it is. But that will have to be arranged."

While Fantine and Marius went to talk to the doctors, Cosette rearranged Gavroche's pillow. "You'll be safe soon, Gavroche," she said soothingly as she wiped some dirt off his cheek.

Gavroche looked at Cosette and Navet. "What about the others?"

"I don't know," Cosette whispered.

00000  
It was evening at last when a fiacre stopped outside the Thenardiers' house.

Marius alighted first and knocked on the door. A moment later, Azelma opened it, hair disheveled and her face pale.

"Marius! What, you've been at the barricades? What's happened?" she asked hurriedly, grasping his arm. She looked past him at the fiacre. "Oh no..." 

"He's badly hurt, Azelma," Marius said, turning to where Cosette and Fantine were gently bringing Gavroche out of the fiacre. Navet alighted last of all, bravely trying to keep his chin up.

Azelma turned back inside and said something quickly to a servant. "Papa isn't home, but I'll take care of him. Where's my sister?" she said to Marius after Gavroche was carried into the house.

Marius shook his head. "There's something more you should know," he added as he led her into the front room and motioned for her to sit down. He brought out Enjolras' letter, which Cosette had handed to him earlier.

Azelma took the letter and opened it. She put the letter down after a few minutes, and looked at Marius. "You lie. You both do."

"I wish I was lying," Marius said. "I told her not to go to the Rue de la Chanvrerie..."

"Where's M.Enjolras?"

"In prison, so I hear."

Azelma bit back a cry of anguish. "And M. Courfeyrac? Where's Maurice?"

Marius shook his head. "He's gone too. They all are."

Azelma let out a wail and buried her head in her hands despite Marius' attempts to comfort her. Cosette, who was just coming back downstairs, also rushed to her. The younger girl continued to weep, rocking back and forth as she murmured incoherently.

"No! Ponine, you said you'd be back...and M. Enjolras, you were supposed to take care of her!" Azelma gasped after a while. "Oh Dieu...how could Maurice leave me like this?!"

"Leave you like what?" Cosette asked.

Azelma looked up, with her dark eyes now blazing with anger. "I'm carrying his child," she said. "Papa doesn't know. Not even Ponine knew, but I thought she might have suspected. I was supposed to tell Maurice yesterday, or today," she added, balling up a handkerchief in her palm. 

"Azelma, I'm so sorry..." Cosette said.

"I don't want pity. I don't want you to look at me that way," Azelma said. "Not with Gavroche so hurt, and everyone I ever loved also gone...first Maman, then Ponine, then almost all my friends..." she murmured before breaking out into another bout of crying.

"Now what's going on here?" M. Thenardier said as he came in through the front door.

Marius stood up while Azelma continued to cling onto Cosette. "The barricades. Gavroche is wounded, and he's upstairs," he said. "And I regret to inform you too that Eponine was also killed in the fighting."

M. Thenardier's expression did not change. "Stop blubbing there, Azelma," he said sternly to his daughter.

"But Papa---" the suffering girl begged.

"Enough of that. You're being so undignified, like your sister," M. Thenardier said. "What a waste then. It was almost profitable for all of us," he said brusquely before going upstairs.

Azelma was now white with rage. "That bastard!" she hissed.

"Dieu, don't say anything more. Enough's been done today," Cosette said, looking at her dress now stained with tears.


	76. Patchwork

**Patchwork**

It seemed that after the failed business of the emeutes, the city was eager to recover from the shock that wracked it. Within two days of the end of the insurrection, the first funerals were being held for the many who'd died in the fighting.

"_It's almost killing me to see him like this,"_ Cosette thought as she glanced at Marius. The two of them were standing close together, determined to stay out of sight, away from prying eyes in the graveyard.

"In life, I was hardly their brother, and I cannot be that even now that they're gone," Marius said bitterly, glancing towards the mourners who surrounded the nine caskets on the ground. From his vantage point, he could see Azelma laying flowers on each casket while her father gossiped with some acquaintances.

"For all purposes, we are supposed to have gone missing," Cosette said. It was all part of a charade that they'd arranged with Gervais. "As far as the city is concerned, we are supposed to have been staying with him outside of Paris, but we only returned to the Rue de la Chanvrerie on an emergency," she reminded him.

"And only tonight..." Marius nodded. "Only tonight, we can be seen in public again. Our alibi has us going back to Paris only then."

"You're lucky that you do not have to wait long," a voice said from behind the young couple. Montparnasse came into sight, looking more drawn and pale than ever.

Marius bristled on realizing the man's identity. "Why don't you join them?"

"I'm a wanted man, like you almost are," Montparnasse answered. "It's bitter isn't it, not being able to pay your respects properly? We're not the only ones in this bind, you know."

Cosette looked at him intently. "What do you mean?"

Montparnasse nodded to her. "I knew them," he said, a pained smile showing on his face. He glanced towards where Azelma was now standing. "That young lady isn't holding up very well." 

"Why, what did you expect?" Marius asked. "Everything that's happened...her friends dead, her sister too, and just yesterday, Gavroche as well... "

"Don't act as if you or her are the only ones in pain," Montparnasse said, wincing. He sighed as he rested against a tree. "I loved Eponine. A little, just enough to make a fool of myself for her. I respected you, and your friends enough to let you all be." 

"What is this all leading to?" Marius whispered. 

Montparnasse gestured to another man standing behind him. "He wants to speak to you," he said.

Marius put his hands in his pocekts. "Bonjour, Monsieur," he said uneasily.

M. Gillenormand's eyes widened. "Marius? Cosette?"


	77. Coming to Terms

**Coming to Terms**

Almost instantly, Marius found himself pulled into a hearty embrace. "Don't you ever go running about like that again, you rogue!" M. Gillenormand reprimanded his grandson. "After all these years, then you go about and fight at the barricades, and leave this poor girl behind to fend for herself?" 

"Grandfather? What's happened?" Marius asked dazedly, getting out of the old man's grip for lack of air.

M. Gillenormand glared at the lawyer. "You ask? Haven't you heard the news? The trial of those Jacobins begins today. Your name was not in the papers, so I only thought you could be dead, till other news came, you rascal."

"M. Gillenormand, how did you know?" Cosette asked.

The nonagenarian smiled warmly at her. "Ah, it is a fine story, my pretty lady. This young man here," he indicated Montparnasse., "has some friends who saw the entire affair from the Rue de la Chanvrerie all the way to La Force. Said you were both riding on the back of some damned haycart. Why, a Baron should have a brougham!"

Marius' face reddened at this, much to Cosette and Montparnasse's laughter. "Perhaps we should talk in some place more fitting," Cosette suggested. "There is a funeral after all, and we mustn't be seen. That means we can't go to the trial either."

M. Gillenormand nodded. "We shall fetch your mother, and perhaps we'll all have a chat in my parlor. It's been dreadfully quiet there, and it does lack some news," he said.

Montparnasse bowed. "I shall have to take my leave then," he said before slipping into the shadows.

Cosette shrugged as she looked at Marius. "Something has changed," she said amiably.

Marius winced. "Clearly so, cherie. Though I wonder if the cause is more startling than the effect," he said to her in an undertone. 

M. Gillenormand, who was halfway down the path, turned back to look at them. "Are you both coming? You do not intend to stand on your feet all day, do you?"

"Directly, Monsieur," Marius said, offering his arm to Cosette.

00000 

"It is hard to be left behind," a soft voice said to Azelma after most of the mourners had gone.

Azelma turned to face the older girl standing in front of her. This stranger had dark hair, and was wearing black as well. She might have been beautiful, were it not for the dark circles under her eyes.

"Who are you?" Azelma asked.

"Musichetta. I was Joly's sweetheart," the woman said. "You must be Azelma. Courfeyrac mentioned you once, and your sister too."

Azelma's eyes stung at the mention of the departed. "These silly boys. Imagine, after it all, I had to be the one to go to the morgue to identify them all, and my sister as well. M. Enjolras is lucky. He's alive. Guess M. Grantaire should be thankful too. But that can only go on for so long, can it?"

Musichetta shrugged sadly. "Well, it won't bring the others back," she said, putting one hand on a coffin. Her shoulders shook as she tried to hold back the tears. "I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't have come," she said.

Azelma gave Musichetta a sympathetic smile. "They wouldn't want to see you like this..."

"I know," Musichetta said. "I tell myself that, I try to tell myself that they were fighting for something good, that they cared, but it's so hard to remember that."

"It's never easy," Azelma whispered, noticing Montparnasse walking up to them.

"I'm going to the courthouse," the dandy said gravely.

Azelma's eyes widened. "But how? You'll be caught!"

"I have my means. The Changer," Montparnasse said.

Azelma nodded. "I won't ask you to come back...but do send some word of what happens?"

"I'll try."

"Good."


	78. A Ray of Sunshine

**A Ray of Sunshine**

"_Another day, when is this going to end?"_ Enjolras wondered as he looked up at the bare ceiling, where morning had not quite reached. Then again, it might have just been the dust, and not the absence of light. "_Another day in solitary, and I'll be lucky if I end up hypochondriac."_

At the onset of the trial, it had been decided that Enjolras would have to be put in a separate cell from his surviving comrades, with the purpose of 'containing his dangerous influence'. Now, more than a week later, he was at his wits' end as he fought to survive in the cell.

"_Miserables...so this is how it really is,"_ he thought as he sat down by a slight crack in the cell wall. He tapped on it twice and listened for the sound of scratching.

"So I see you've deigned to grace us with your presence?" Grantaire's voice replied hoarsely.

"I can't be alone with my own thoughts for too long. How are you doing?" Enjolras asked in a low voice.

"Have a mild fever, but that will pass."

"Doesn't sound mild, by the sound of your voice. I may not be a doctor, but I can tell. How's Citoyen Valjean?" 

"Sleeping, so far," Grantaire said. "There's talk of our sentencing today."

"Oh, good," Enjolras replied just as the sounds of someone getting up could be heard from the next cell.

"At last, you're awake," Valjean said.

"More like still. Anything happened?" 

"News came in through here. A postillon from Montparnasse."

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and what about?" he wondered. Though he could not see Valjean, he could tell that the man could barely contain some joy of his. 

"Cosette and Marius are going to be married soon," Valjean said. "Marius' grandfather agreed to the match. The wedding is set for next month. Apparently, it can be arranged..." 

Enjolras smiled wryly. "_It should have been my turn first, or Joly, if things had been different,"_ he thought. "So Montparnasse came all the way here to tell you that? Surely we aren't invited to the wedding..."

"No chance of it. But I think they knew that I would have wanted to know," Valjean replied, his voice now somber.

"All of you there! No talking between the walls!" a prison warden snapped from outside as he held out the keys. "Though what does it matter...you're due at the Palais de Justice in an hour." 

Enjolras got to his feet and smoothed down his now worn out clothing. "_Perhaps this is the best that I can expect for today,"_ he realized as the warden unlocked the cell.


	79. Letting Go

**Letting Go**

Marius was good at remaining inconspicuous.

In the back of the room, he'd managed to find a seat for himself, unseen by all, even the judge. From there however, he could observe the proceedings that would decide the fate of his friends.

"_By all rights, Enjolras should have been the prosecutor, or the public defender...not the one on trial."_ he thought angrily. And then again, if the world knew anything of rights, they wouldn't be in the courtroom now.

"Jean Valjean, you are sentenced to ten years of imprisonment in La Force," the judge said, reading out the verdict impassively. Up front, Jean Valjean bowed his head, but otherwise, his stance was resolute.

The judge's face was now remorseful as he looked to the two other men to be sentenced. "Antoine Enjolras, Laurent Grantaire, you are both found guilty of sedition and attempting to overthrow the king. The sentence: death by guillotine, to be carried out not later than a week from hence," he said. "The court is dismissed."

Marius bowed his head as people began to file out of the courtroom. "_We knew this could happen, but does it have to?"_ he wondered as he went over to his friends.

"You can't talk to them, Monsieur," a guard said to him.

"Let him," Valjean said. The old man met Marius' gaze. "Take care of Cosette and Fantine."

Marius nodded. "There has to be some way. An appeal...a pardon?"

"It is not that simple." Enjolras replied, looking at Marius knowingly.

"I cannot believe you aren't even defending yourself!" Marius exclaimed.

"It is the price I pay," Enjolras said. "Marius, my part...their part in this story is almost done. It is yours now."

"My part to what?" Marius asked, bewildered.

"Have you ever listened to anything we've ever told you?" Enjolras asked before he was led out of the courtroom.

Grantaire was the last of them all. "You look out for yourself, Pontmercy," he said. "You'll be a better believer than I ever was."

Marius' brow furrowed. "Grantaire, no one believed in him more than you ever did." 

Grantaire laughed heartily. "Glad someone noticed. Adieu!" he said before walking out of the courtroom, leaving Marius bewildered and alone.

00000

Four days later, a crowd turned out in the Rue Saint-Honore, where a guillotine still stood. Gamins climbed up to the roofs, while three ragpickers were huddled in a corner, conversing with a more well-dressed man.

"Too bad Claquesous died at the barricades. He would have wanted to see this," Babet muttered.

Montparnasse bit his lip. "There's nothing very nice about this."

"Still moping again?" Gueleumer jeered.

Brujon elbowed him. "The innkeeper should have been celebrating today. There was supposed to be a wedding at the church."

Babet and Gueleumer glanced from Brujon to Montparnasse. "Is this true?" Babet asked.

Montparnasse nodded. "Eponine should have been happy today."

"Look, there they are," Babet said. "They do look calm..."

Montparnasse ducked his head. "I don't think I should see this. I knew them, just a little bit."

"Enough for a stabbing in the sewer?" Brujon mocked.

Montparnasse ignored the jibe as he turned around and walked away. Before he left the Rue Saint-Honore altogether, he took one last look at the scaffold. Grantaire was crossing himself, while Enjolras' eyes were fixed on a flapping tricolor. For one moment however, Enjolras' gaze caught Montparnasse's, and the dandy thought that the student had smiled for one fleeting second.

"_You'll see her sooner than I will...take care of her and Gavroche for me..."_ Montparnasse thought before heading towards the Thenardiers' house.


	80. Perfectly Respectable Images

**Perfectly Respectable Images**

Some more weeks passed, far too quickly for Fantine, and far too slowly for Marius and Cosette. 

"Just think, cheri, a few months ago, this would have been considered impossible," Fantine said one morning as she helped Cosette tie a ribbon on her dress. She stepped back to look at her daughter, and she sighed. "You look so beautiful. I'm sure Marius won't be able to take his eyes off you," she said as tears sprang to her eyes.

"Maman, don't be sad, today is my wedding. I don't want you to cry," Cosette said lightly as she put a hand on her mother's arm.

"It's only because I'm happy, Cosette," Fantine said. "That you won't have to go what I went through. That your children will have a father they can know. That you'll have a husband who loves you more than his own life."

"Maman, you didn't do so badly for yourself, or for me," Cosette said with a smile.

Fantine could only nod as she looked at the mirror. She almost could not believe what she saw. For the first time in years, she and Cosette were dressed well, more like bourgeoisie than servants. Cosette was a vision in white, and Fantine herself looked beautiful in her blue dress.

"_How can this be?"_ she wondered as a girlish blush rose to her cheeks.

00000

Marius could feel his hands becoming clammy, to the point that he had no choice but to ask for a handkerchief.

"Nervous there, I see?" said his cousin Theodule from his seat in a nearby pew.

Marius nodded diffidently as he looked at the crowd in the church. The gathering was mainly comprised of old family friends of the Gillenormands. He saw his aunt mention something to another old woman before turning back to her prayers. In the back of the church, Marius noticed another young man enter without going to a seat. Judging by the blackness of his hat, it could only be Montparnasse.

"_He's supposed to look out for Azelma, but he cannot go near her,"_ Marius realized. M. Thenardier and his daughter were seated near the front of the church. M. Thenardier, dressed more ostentatiously than ever in white breeches and an embroidered jacket, was talking to his neighbor, who was apparently only trying to be cordial. Azelma on the other hand was smiling as she listened to a story, but she kept her arms crossed over her middle. Though it was the middle of summer, the young girl wore a thick dress of green.

"This seems like a perfectly respectable gathering," Theodule remarked. "Though I see none of your old friends are here."

For a moment, Marius thought of hitting Theodule, but propriety and his sense of restraint held him back. "_It's good for you that you don't know everything that has happened,"_ he thought as two more people seated themselves apart from the gathering. He recognized Musichetta and little Navet, both of whom had been invited but only secretly.

He also saw Fantine hurrying to find her place. "She's coming, Marius," she said to the young man.

"_And one of those who should be here will never be able to make it..."_ Marius thought just before the first strains of music began to play. 

All thoughts of sadness sudenly fled as the doors opened, and Cosette entered the church, on the arm of M. Gillenormand. It was an unusual arrangement, but it was the closest thing to proper.

Marius caught Cosette's gaze, and he smiled to see her radiant expression. "_So this is where we begin again,"_ he thought as he reached for her hand and they knelt for the ceremony to commence


	81. Absentia

**Absentia**

"_This sort of worry is justifiable,"_ Javert thought as he entered the prison block. It was a little unusual for him to be worried about the condition of the prisoners he encountered, but he could not help but feel even a modicum of concern for how matters transpired in the penal system.

"_It might just be his age, but clearly there is something more afoot. He only began doing this last week,"_ he noted as he stopped outside the now all-too familiar cell. It was already the middle of November.

Jean Valjean looked up from his seat. "Good morning there, Monsieur Inspector," he greeted with a half-smile on his face as he adjusted his mended scarf.

Javert nodded to him cordially. "Fever has been going about," he said grimly. "The hospital is filling up again."

Valjean took a deep breath. "Be careful that you do not catch it yourself," he said laconically. 

"Listen, I have had word that you haven't been eating your ration," Javert pointed out. "It will not do good to have you fall ill because of that."

Valjean looked up, as if he'd been prodded. "What is that to you?"

"There is a duty given to look out for prisoners' welfare," Javert said. "I suppose it seems ill in some eyes, just as you claim you were doing your duty at the barricade."

Valjean rubbed his hands for warmth. "I had hoped that the consequence would be different."

Javert sighed. "How many nephews and nieces did you have again, Valjean?"

"Seven," Valjean replied. "Two nieces, five nephews."

"Ah," Javert nodded. "And a sister?"

"Why do you ask?"

"A man like you would not have done such things unless there was something or someone he was still seeking." 

Valjean paused, then hung his head. "I haven't completely forgotten them," he murmured. "I miss them as well..."

Javert adjusted the buttons of his coat. He had a suspicion that Valjean had been receiving postillons, but he could not accuse the man without solid proof. "_What news could he possibly be getting?"_ he wondered.

The Inspector cleared his throat. "I heard that Monsieur the Baron Pontmercy and his wife are living very well. So is Madame Baronne's mother." 

"I'm glad to hear that." Valjean said.

"Well, there's a family with some thing to look for," Javert said, giving Valjean a glance. "Not like the Thenardiers, unfortunately. The younger girl is still in seclusion."

"I never thought you'd take an interest in such things."

"The lingering effects of my investigation," Javert said. "Now, you'd better take care of yourself," he added before going off on his way. He glanced back at Valjean one last time and noted that the old man had left his chair in favor of his pallet.

"_A doctor then..."_ Javert noted as he headed to the warden's office.


	82. An Innovation on Postillons

**An Innovation on Postillons**

Despite Javert's intervention, Valjean's health continued to hang in the balance. A month later, as December's chill continued to set in, the Inspector turned to other avenues in search of an answer.

Once again, as he walked through the streets of Paris, he had his pocketbook out. Ruefully, he noted the little scuff marks on it from Gavroche's hands.

"_Rue des Filles du Calvaire is a logical place to start, but I doubt they have the means to send any message to him directly,"_ he deduced. Making up his mind, he headed for the Thenardiers' house. 

When he got there, he noticed that the windows had been cleaned, the roof reshingled, and the place generally refurbished. "_The mark of someone who has found wealth quickly,"_ he thought with disgust. Perhaps one day, he would get to the bottom of that particular mystery.

For now though, what caught his interest was the one set of footprints leading to the backyard. Carefully, Javert followed them until he came up against the fence. 

As was his usual habit, he stayed in the shadows, watching as Montparnasse let himself in the backyard and walked up to the house. 

"It's a pity I can't receive you properly," Azelma's voice said from inside the house. "Papa still won't let you in the front room."

"Well I'm happy you can receive anyone at all. You're looking well," Montparnasse replied.

"You don't need to flatter me, Montparnasse...I meant, Pierre."

"How is your son?"

At the mention of her son, Azelma's childish tone suddenly became softer. "Oh very well. Imagine, after all the names I had to think of, I decided on Maurice-Antoine. I would have liked to name him after Gavroche or Eponine, but it's too fanciful." 

"Clearly, you do not read romances, petite." Montparnasse said jovially.

"I never had cause to." 

Javert's attention wandered from this conversation, after he decided that it was of no use to him. As he stepped away from the gate, he noticed at last a rolled up bit of cloth on the ground. 

"_They just become more ingenious at these postillons"_ he remarked to himself as he picked up the bundle. He read the note enclosed there before pocketing it.

It was too cold to be taking snuff in the open, but Javert did so anyway before leaving the neighborhood. Anyone who saw him would have noticed that he was walking quickly, as if he had no time to lose, or as if he had a message of his own to deliver.


	83. AntiParallel

**Anti-Parallel**

"He does not have very long. Perhaps a change of location might give him a few days, but nothing more," the doctor said grimly as he glanced at the warden.

"So what are we to do for him?" the warden asked.

"I do not know. Get a priest," the doctor said before exiting the cell. The warden shook his head before casting a last look at the sick man lying on a bed in the infirmary of La Force.

It was a long time before Valjean stirred again. The old man feebly sat up and reached for the pitcher at his bedside. After a few swallows of water, he sat back against the dirty wall.

"_I hope Montparnasse got that postillon,"_ he thought wearily. He'd used the last bit of his scarf to hide the note, which made it all the more dear for him.

He thought back on the letter that he'd sent, bidding Montparnasse to stay away from La Force beginning that week. While Javert had not gone after him or the rest of Patron-Minette, it was only really a matter of time.

"_And then where will they all be when that day comes?"_ Valjean wondered wryly. He almost laughed at the irony of his situation; here he was, warning his criminal friends to stay out of prison when he himself could not leave.

"_But hopefully their lot will be better than mine,"_ Valjean wished. He forced himself to stop pondering on the uncertainties that faced Patron-Minette, and instead to dwell on the other people he missed.

The old convict held back a sob as he remembered Cosette and Marius, and his promise to Fantine that he'd inadvertently broken. "_One thing for another, hoping to pick it all up again later...and yet all for nothing,"_ he mused bitterly. "_But they are safe. They can live a life far away from my own..."_

Valjean lay back down on his bed as he felt a shiver course through him. The chills had been getting worse lately, and keeping warm was becoming more and more difficult for him. He could feel the tears drying on his face as he tried to wrap himself up in blankets for warmth.

To a casual observer, Valjean might have seemed to be staring at the ceiling, but in truth, his eyes did not see the grayness and the cobwebs. Instead, he found himself looking back at his old home in Faverolles, with his sister and all her children making the best of a hearth. He heard their voices again, chattering despite the harsh winter, even as he slipped out that evening towards the bakery. After a time, their faces and voices soon changed into those of Fantine, Cosette, Marius, Gavroche, Montparnasse, Eponine, Azelma, and Enjolras.

_"I think I might have done a little better this time..."_ Valjean thought. It was definitely not what he'd expected, but it was better than the first time around.

As Valjean shut his eyes, he heard the infirmary door open again.


	84. Even At the Close of Day

**Even At the Close of Day**

"_Every con gets his day. Today it wasn't Montparnasse's though..."_ Javert thought as he stopped outside the infirmary door.

For a moment, he thought of repenting and heading back out to chase after Montparnasse, but he decided against it at last. "_It will not do him good to be arrested in a friend's house."_

The sight that greeted the Inspector in the infirmary was enough to shake his usual calm. "Has the doctor been in here?" he asked, setting aside his hat on a chair.

Valjean opened his eyes slowly. "Yes, but there is no need for him any more. The warden has gone to get a priest."

Javert shook his head as he stepped further into the room. "A man like you...a man who lived through the galleys...most people would expect to see this sentence through." 

"To what end?" Valjean asked. "Ten years, and everything will change again. I will have nothing then, I will no longer be needed. The man has served his purpose."

"So everything you say you have..."

"Has moved on in its own way."

Javert nodded, not knowing what to say or do. "Is there anything more that can be done?" he said at last.

"I should have liked to see them again..." Valjean said. "Cosette, Marius, and Fantine. Fantine most of all."

"What of the others?" the Inspector asked cautiously.

Valjean smiled diffidently. "Give them my regards."

_"For a man on his deathbed, he sure has some cheek,"_ Javert thought. He looked at his watch, realizing that it was already late afternoon. "_Has that warden gone at all?"_ he wondered.

Valjean sighed as he met Javert's eyes. "If only I could write one last word for them..." he whispered. "You have a pencil?"

"_Even now, disgraced as he is, why does he try to hope or think of people who cannot see him?"_ Javert mused as he handed the pencil over. He would hardly call Valjean defiant; in fact he seemed rather resigned to the inevitable.

Valjean tried to scrawl something, but his hand fell back. He shook his head and looked at Javert. "Tell them for me, please," he begged.

Javert did not say anything as the door opened behind him. He was vaguely aware of a priest entering the room, and he had to be told to respectfully sit away from the dying man. Javert conceded to only going as far as the room; there was something gripping him that went past his morbid curiosity after all.

When the priest finally concluded Valjean's confession, the old man looked upwards, as if trying to catch the last rays of light overhead. Javert noted this grimly. "Sometimes people cannot help but feel despair," he muttered to himself as he went back towards Valjean's bedside.

He clasped the dying man's hand and nodded. A last smile spread across Valjean's face.

"This is not so bad..." he murmured almost imperceptibly. Javert felt Valjean's grip slacken, and out of the corner of his eye, noticed the priest crossing himself.

The Inspector went back to where he'd left his hat, but did not put it on. He nodded to the warden before going to the door, as outside, the sun hid itself in the mantle of the night.


	85. Epilogue: Illumination

**Epilogue: Illumination**

"So I hear you live with Musichetta now?" Fantine asked Navet as they continued to straighten up M. Gillenormand's study.

Navet nodded and dusted off his hands. "She said she'd come here in a while..."

"_This day has been so full of visitors,"_ Fantine thought with a grin. In the morning, Montparnasse had come by with news of Azelma, which Cosette was delighted to hear. Later, M. Gillenormand had invited some of his friends over for luncheon while Marius had met with a few colleagues about some cases.

Suddenly, Cosette opened the study door. "Maman, there is a man to see you here," she said hurriedly. "Says it's important. I'll finish this." 

"Non Cosette, you're a Baronne now," Fantine protested.

"But you're my mother, and Marius' too, if that's the case," Cosette insisted, taking a book from the table.

Fantine gave her daughter a resigned smile. "_That same insistence...I had it once too,"_ she thought as she went down to the front hall.

Marius stood in the doorway, talking to a man wearing a greatcoat. Fantine hesitantly went over to them. "Good evening, M'sieur Inspecteur," she greeted. 

Javert bowed respectfully. "And you too, Madame. I need to have a word with you, about a matter that Monsieur the Baron knows of already."

It was then that Fantine realized that Marius seemed a little subdued and pale. "Why, what is it?" she asked him.

"He'll tell you. Mere, shall I leave you both alone?" Marius asked her.

Fantine bit her lip. "Cosette will want you upstairs by and by," she simply said before turning back to Javert. "What news then?" she asked. 

Javert's face did not lose its sombreness. "A friend of yours has passed on, a certain old man who has had quite a few adventures," he said.

Fantine held on to the doorjamb. "M. Valjean?"

"Is that what you call him?" 

"He was always the gentleman. But how?"

Javert sighed. "I guess this winter was too much for him. But he wanted to see you and Monsieur the Baron, and Madame the Baronne. You most especially. A matter which of course, I shall not pry into." 

Fantine crossed herself even as her eyes were swimming with tears. "Did he say anything more?"

"He wished you well," Javert said simply. "That is all." 

Fantine nodded after a time. "That is just like him...even at the worst," she murmured. She looked up at Javert. "Thank you for telling me...telling us, Monsieur Inspecteur." 

Javert managed a smile as he put on his hat again. "My apologies, Madame."

"There is nothing to apologize for. Have a good evening, Monsieur," Fantine said before Javert walked out the door. For a moment, she stood alone in the hall before taking a deep breath and going upstairs.

If she'd taken a look at the window, she would have seen Javert walking slowly along the Rue des Filles du Calvaire, head bowed deep in thought. At last, he reached a streetlamp, newly lit and still flickering in the rising window. It was among the few lights on the darkened street, enrobed by a dark winter evening.

For a long time, Javert stood under the light, seeming to consult his pocketwatch, though his gaze saw something else entirely. To a passer-by, he might have seemed to be counting the hours. At last, he pulled out his pocketbook, and wrote something in it before putting it away again, all the while blinking under the glow of the lamplight, which seemed to be but a mirror of the stars emerging up above.

_A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed and stuck with me throughout the writing of this long, painful saga. I do hope it is satisfying all the same. Till the next epic...a bien tot!_


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